


Disparaged

by imekitty



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Addiction, Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Obsession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-02-04 06:32:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 89,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12765162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imekitty/pseuds/imekitty
Summary: Unable to revert to his human form, Danny is held at gunpoint by his own mother.





	1. The disparaged

 

Danny grimaced at the sight of his parents. They didn't typically hunt ghosts this late at night, and yet there they were, looking right at him, so bewildering that it was almost surreal.

They stood beneath him as he hovered in the air. Jack was fiddling with some sort of new weapon that Danny saw him working on earlier that morning at breakfast. Maddie's eyes were barely visible as she stared at him through her orange goggles, but the determination within them transfixed Danny, pulled his ghostly breath out of him and strangled it.

She was reaching for something on her belt, but Danny could not move, could not even glance at what exactly she was reaching for, entranced by the intensity of her glare.

_Why are you looking at me like that? What have I done?_

But then she sighed loudly and irritably looked away, breaking the hold she had on him. She snatched Jack's weapon away from him to attempt to fix it herself. Jack pouted and whined his offense.

Still floating above them, he blinked the momentary hypnosis out of his head and turned his attention back to the spider ghost he had been fighting, which was quickly scurrying away. He had to stop it before it hurt anyone or destroyed anything. His parents were only a threat to  _him_. The ghost was a threat to the town. He had to put that before his own safety.

And besides, he was way faster than his parents. They could never catch him.

He flew after the spider at top speed, a yell from Maddie sounding behind him.

_She'll get over it._

Danny searched the streets, but there was no sign of the spider ghost. He frowned and wished that Sam and Tucker were around to help him, but it was the middle of the night, and he didn't feel it was necessary to wake them up for, in his opinion, a minor threat.

But he knew they'd gladly offer their help if he asked for it no matter what time of night. Their loyalty was astounding to him, especially since he wasn't even sure he deserved it. He felt he was asking more and more of them while having little to offer them in return.

So the least he could do was let them sleep.

After a basic overlook of the streets, he decided to do a more thorough search. He carefully looked behind and around buildings and landmarks.

Nothing.

Sighing in frustration, he landed on the ground and wondered how long he actually cared to look. If he couldn't find the ghost, his parents probably could. Perhaps he could just call it a night, get some much needed sleep.

No, no, he couldn't do that. He had an obligation to protect this town. It was his fault this ghost was even here in the first place, and he couldn't just give up because he was "tired" or "not up to it." If he had wanted to get enough sleep every night and not be so sore every morning, well, he should've thought of that before he turned on his parents' ghost portal and gave these ghosts an easy way to invade their town.

He lowered his eyes. Why couldn't these ghosts just leave his town alone? Was this what the rest of his life would be like?

A rustle from an alley caught his attention. He looked at it warily. Bad things always seemed to happen to characters in movies and books when they entered dark alleys at night.

He rolled his eyes and headed down the alley, figuring that the worst thing that could happen was that he would have to fight another ghost.

He cautiously scanned the alley as he flew down it, ready to dodge an unexpected attack at any moment. He reached the end where a tall gate and two silver trash cans stood before him. He landed on the ground and looked around in confusion. He had definitely heard a sound coming from here, but what had made it?

Another rustling sound, a louder one. Danny turned his attention to one of the trash cans and peered inside to see a bird frantically flapping its wings in a futile effort to escape.

Danny watched the bird struggle in its metal prison. No way for it to become intangible and move through the barrier surrounding it. No way for it to get away from anyone who might happen to find it and decide to do it harm.

He reached into the otherwise empty can and scooped up the bird in his hands. He threw it up into the air and watched it fly away toward the stars.

 _Flying's nice,_ was what Sam had said once.

Danny held his arms and nodded in silent agreement.

There was a sudden sharp stinging sensation just below the back of his neck.

Danny yelped and immediately pulled out the dart that had struck him. He stared at it in his trembling hand. Was it a tranquilizer or something that would temporarily paralyze him?

He started to turn around, wondering if Skulker was after him once again.

A familiar voice shouted at him instead, "Don't move!"

His hand lost its grip on the dart as it clattered to the ground.

_Mom!_

He heard the charged-up whir of her ecto-gun and figured she was less than ten meters away. Whatever he had just been shot with did not have a noticeable effect on him. He wondered if he could just turn invisible and fly away before she could get any closer.

"What you have just been injected with won't let you change your molecules in any way for awhile," said Maddie darkly. "You won't be able to become invisible or intangible."

Danny started to turn again to face her, but she snapped at him fiercely, "I said don't move!"

Danny swallowed and made no further movement. He stood with his back facing her, his mind racing over how to get out of this one. He indeed could not become invisible, his molecules completely ignoring his mental commands. He glanced up at the open sky, but he could not possibly fly away with her gun ready and trained right on him.

He heard her walking closer to him until he sensed she was only a couple meters behind him.

"Get on your knees," his mother ordered, "and place your hands on your head."

Danny hesitated.

"Phantom, now!" screamed Maddie. "I  _will_  shoot you if I must!"

Danny delayed compliance just a moment longer, just a few more seconds to retain the dignity that he knew he'd be surrendering. He shakily lowered himself, down onto one knee, pausing before finally bringing down his other knee. He interlaced his gloved fingers on the back of his head and tried not to think about the expression his mother was wearing behind him.

Why had she opted to forgo immobilizing him with a tranquilizer? Why was she not trapping him inside a containment device? Why was she forcing him into this submissive position instead?

_Is she trying to make me feel inferior?_

He waited quietly for her to call for Jack, to give him another order, to do  _something_ , but nothing happened for several moments. His eyes wandered as he tried to concoct a way out of this.

What was she waiting for anyway? Did she want to make him uncomfortable or nervous?

Because it was working.

A couple more minutes passed. He could still hear the humming of Maddie's weapon, her even breathing. He could hear his frantic heartbeats pounding in his head.

Another minute went by. Danny turned his head slightly, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was going on behind him.

"Keep looking forward, Phantom," hissed Maddie.

Danny obeyed and asked as calmly as he could, "How long are you going to keep me like this?"

"As long as I feel like keeping you like this."

Danny winced at the bite in her tone. "Look, I'm sorry you have such a bad impression of me—"

Maddie stepped closer. "Shut up, ghost."

Danny said nothing more.

Maddie placed her blaster next to his head. "I should just shoot you now, end your problematic existence."

Danny scoffed. "Problematic? Without me—"

Maddie hit him over the head with her weapon. "Just because you've saved our town a few times doesn't mean you're a saint."

"What does it mean, then?" demanded Danny with an uncontrollable tremor in his voice. The pain from her blow ebbed to right behind his eyes.

"Tell me why I shouldn't shoot you."

"Amity Park would be teeming with ghosts by now if it weren't for me, and if you get rid of me, the ghosts will completely take over."

"You think we can't handle them ourselves, Phantom?"

Danny shook his head furiously, not wanting to upset his mother any further. "It's not that at all! It's just…" He paused, trying to find the right words. "I kind of have a slight advantage when it comes to ghost-fighting."

"Because you're a ghost yourself?"

Danny almost corrected her with "half ghost," but caught himself in time and nodded instead.

A minute of silence passed before Maddie spoke again. "You've always been fascinating to me, Phantom. From the moment I first saw you, I could tell you were different, not like the other ghosts. I wanted to capture you for science, for experimental reasons. I wanted to…rip you open, look inside you, see what you're made of."

Danny felt his ecto-pressure drop slightly, but he composed himself and fought off the nausea with deep breaths.

"But Phantom, all of our problems started with you," she said indignantly. "Maybe if I just get rid of you, those problems will disappear with you."

Danny knew for a fact that things would get worse with him gone, but how did she know that he was the reason for their ghost problems in the first place? After pondering a moment, he asked tentatively, "What do you mean they all started with me?"

"My husband and I were just about ready to give up on ghosts," said Maddie, almost sadly. "We were…about to give it all up. We had never actually seen ghosts before, you see, and we were starting to wonder if we would ever see any." She paused. "One day, we almost gave up our belief in ghosts altogether." She paused again. "At the exact moment my husband was about to declare that ghosts weren't real, you, of all ghosts, flew by."

Danny racked his brain, trying to recover the memory of this event.

"Ever since that moment, Phantom, we've had an overwhelming number of ghost problems. Why is that?" She moved closer to him. "Why is it that as soon as we saw you, we've had these ghost problems when we  _never_  had them before?"

Danny said nothing, unsure how to answer this question without incensing her.

"If you don't have a good answer, I can only assume that you're behind it all." Maddie pressed the barrel of her gun to his head.

Danny gasped and shut his eyes tightly. His muscles tensed, his hands, still on the back of his head, shook. "Please don't shoot me."

"Tell me why we've been having ghost problems."

Danny knew that if things got too out of hand, he could reveal his identity. He knew she would accept him from past experience, but it was something he didn't want to do unless he absolutely had to, a last resort. He didn't want to put her at risk, did not want her to try to interfere with his ghost-fighting by imposing restrictions or joining him in battle.

Or worse—and he hadn't admitted this to Sam or Tucker or Jazz yet—he was afraid that her desire to experiment on him would still be there even if she knew he was her son. He was afraid that she'd be even more excited by the idea of her prized ghost only being  _half_  ghost, that she'd try to manipulate him into letting her figure him out. Just one quick look inside, Danny? For science, Danny? Don't you know what I could learn from you, Danny? Don't you want to help your mother become famous and respected, Danny? I gave you life, Danny, so it's only fair that you give it back to me, Danny, Danny, Danny.

But he currently could not change his molecules. Did that mean he could not become human again? With no way to prove his identity to his mother, perhaps she would just shoot him anyway, not believing him.

"I'm losing my patience, Phantom."

"I'll give you an answer," said Danny slowly, "if you could just back away a little. Your gun being right up against my head is making it hard for me to focus."

"You'll give me an answer, or I'll kill you."

_I'll kill you._

Such sickening words from his own mother.

"It's…" He wondered how to word his answer. "It  _is_  actually kind of sort of my fault that all these ghosts appeared—"

"Really?" said Maddie coldly as she pushed Danny's head down lower with her gun.

"Hear me out!" cried Danny. "I didn't mean to! It was an accident!"

Maddie lifted her gun slightly. "An accident?"

Danny straightened up, but now he had to think of a way to continue without revealing too much. "You know your ghost portal, right?"

Maddie hesitated. "What about it?"

"Remember how it didn't work when you first created it?"

Danny could feel the tension growing as Maddie contemplated this.

"How do you know about that?" she asked.

"Because…well…" What now? How was he going to give her a satisfactory answer without revealing his secret? "I saw it myself. I was there when it wasn't working."

Maddie waited for him to continue, but Danny could sense great curiosity in her irritated silence.

"I was…trying to get back to the ghost zone. As a ghost, I knew that was where I belonged." That sounded believable, right? And didn't make him sound mischievous, right? "The way I had gotten here was no longer accessible, so I was looking for another way. When I came across your portal, I knew that was my chance." His voice quavered. "But it needed to be turned on properly." His mother was aware that it was he, her son, who had managed to turn the portal on. He couldn't lie about that, had to work it in. "So, when I saw your son alone by the portal—"

"My son?" Maddie interrupted. Her voice rose in pitch. "What about my son?"

The reaction took Danny by surprise. Why did she sound so frantic all of a sudden? "Uh, yes, your son. I saw him and—"

"What do you know about my son?" Maddie pressed her gun against his head again. "Where is he? What have you done with him?" She was snarling, but she sounded panicked, frightened.

Danny was stunned into silence. What did she mean? Why was she asking that as if…?

As if she thought he was missing?

"Answer me, Phantom!" screamed Maddie. "I'll shoot you! I'll shoot you right now if you don't tell me where he is!"

"What are you talking about?" cried Danny, truly perplexed. He tried again to become invisible, but his molecules still refused to change for him.

"I'm not playing, Phantom." Maddie grabbed him roughly by his hair and spoke right into his ear. "You are not worth any more trouble. Tell me where my son is, and I'll be sure to end your existence humanely."

He could feel his mother's rage, could hear her gun whirring by his head.

_My God, she's really going to kill me._

"I'm…" His trembling words tried desperately to scrape past his vocal cords. " _I'm_ your—"

"Maddie!" another voice cried, the unmistakable voice of his father. He sounded distressed.

Maddie turned to look at him, but she did not release her hold on Danny's hair. "Jack, what is it?"

The spider ghost that Danny had been searching for earlier appeared behind Jack in the alley. Maddie immediately straightened up, yanking Danny up with her. He gasped in pain.

"Jack, watch out!" screamed Maddie.

The spider ghost grabbed Jack with its front legs. Jack attempted to use his new weapon on the ghost, but it knocked it out of his hand toward Maddie. Maddie let go of Danny's hair and picked up the weapon. She ran toward the spider ghost and fired at it.

Danny normally would've stayed, would've helped his father, but he had to get out of there. Shaking, shivering, he took off into the sky, leaving his parents to battle with the spider ghost on their own.

A slowness although he was flying as fast as he could. A feeling of falling even as he climbed higher. A heaviness that weighed him down despite being so light-headed.

He had to lie down, had to process…somewhere safe.

He could see his bedroom window. He increased his speed as he raced toward it.

An explosion of pain sent him sailing back. The ghost shield was activated and surrounding his house.

Jazz opened his window and looked out at him. "Danny! Thank goodness! I've been trying to call you. Mom and Dad have been worried sick about you. Get in here, quick!"

Danny tried to look at her, but he could not focus his vision very well.

Jazz cocked her head. "Danny?" She leaned out the window. "Come on, change already and get in here!"

"I…I can't…" Danny's voice was raspy as he tried to speak.

Jazz furrowed her brow. "You can't…what?"

Danny took a deep breath and tried again. "I can't change back."

Jazz stared at him for a few moments before leaving. A few moments later, the ghost shield powered down, and Danny immediately entered in through the open window. His vision was still unfocused and bleary.

Jazz reappeared in his room. "Okay, what happened? Why can't you change back?"

His head was filling with pressure and about to burst.

Jazz placed her hands on his shoulders. "Danny, you're scaring me."

Constricting vessels. Vertigo. Greying out. His mind was transmitting the strong command to fall, fall, fall.

Danny collapsed, and Jazz caught him in her arms, eased him into a horizontal position. She looked down at him as he shook and heaved.

He could hear Jazz saying something, but he could not parse her phonemes into meaningful segments.

Fear, paranoia, ache.

So much.

Stinging, pulsing, convulsing—

Ripping through him, crushing him, killing him—

She almost killed him, handled him so roughly, aggressively, cruelly, like he was—

NOTHING

Like he meant nothing to her—

Because in that moment, he  _did_  mean nothing to her.

As if she—

HATED

She did hate him. She wanted to  _kill_  him, and she—

ALMOST DID!

So much, so much, so much, why did this hurt so much? He wanted her to know and yet could never let her know.

Would she have cared when she realized later she had killed her own son?

Or did she really believe that if he was the cause of all of the town's ghost problems that it would be better to kill him, would not feel any remorse even if she knew who he really was?

He didn't know, didn't know, didn't know, was afraid to know.

At some point, Jazz had managed to get him up and on his bed. He wasn't sure when, but he became aware that he was sitting and no longer lying on the floor.

Jazz was talking to him, trying to comfort him. Although he couldn't remember speaking, he must've said some things out loud since she was now assuring him that their mother didn't hate him, that he was her world, always had been since even before he was born.

Danny lifted his head and looked at her, suddenly embarrassed. He moved out of her embrace and turned away. "Sorry," he murmured. "I didn't mean to be so…weak."

"You're not weak," said Jazz. "Not in the slightest."

Danny leaned over, his elbows resting on his thighs, his head hanging. He breathed deeply.

Jazz started rubbing his back. "So, if I heard right, Mom injected you with her latest creation, right? I heard her talking about it a few days ago. It prevents ghostly molecules from changing."

"Right." Danny tried changing again, but still nothing happened. "I can't turn invisible or intangible…or even human." He took in another deep, shaky breath. "What was she doing out at this hour anyway?"

"Well, I was trying to call you to let you know! But you wouldn't answer your phone. I guess Mom came into your room and saw you were missing. She woke me up to say that she and Dad were going to go out looking for you." She paused. "She was really worried about you because as far as she knows, you're not the type to sneak out in the middle of the night."

"I didn't use to be." He tried to say it humorously, but the intended mirth stuck in his throat. "Do you know how long this stuff is supposed to last?" He felt panic returning, building again. "What if she comes back and I'm still in ghost form?"

Jazz stood. "Wait here. I'll be back."

She left Danny alone in his room. Danny took the opportunity to further calm himself. It was over now, he tried to tell himself. At the moment, he was safe. Nothing was happening, nothing was threatening him. Not anymore.

Jazz returned with a syringe and a bottle of clear liquid. "I looked through Mom's notes. The effects are apparently supposed to last for hours, but this should cancel them."

Danny winced. "That's a big needle."

"Well, it's a really thick liquid," said Jazz apologetically. "Best to do it in your upper arm, I think."

Without a word, Danny unzipped his jumpsuit and exposed his right upper arm. Jazz drew a precise amount of liquid from the bottle and inspected it for air bubbles, flicking it a couple times.

"You sure you know what you're doing?" asked Danny anxiously.

"Of course. Don't worry." She moved the needle to Danny's arm. "And really, what other choice do you have, right?"

"You always know how to make me feel better," muttered Danny.

He looked away to indicate he was ready and felt the needle poke through his skin. It was a tolerable amount of pain at first that grew as the liquid was pushed into him, agonizingly separating and stretching his skin. Danny bit his lip and stopped himself from gasping.

"There." Jazz pulled the needle out. "Not too bad, I hope?"

"Not at all." Danny zipped up his jumpsuit and looked down at his gloved hands. "How long does it take to work?"

"How long did it take when you were first injected?"

"It was quick."

"Then I imagine this will be quick, too."

Danny waited only a moment more before taking a deep breath and willing his form to change. With a small crackle, the familiar lights appeared and revealed his human form. Danny looked down at his street clothes with relief.

Jazz hugged him. "There's my little brother." She moved back and sighed. "Well, now you have a new problem."

Danny looked at her apprehensively.

"What are you going to tell Mom when she asks where you've been?"

Danny groaned. "Well, at this hour, I'm going to have to come up with something  _really_  convincing." He pulled out his cell phone. "I'm sure they'll believe me if I tell them I was with Sam." He let out a chuckle, but it was somewhat sad. "That sounds like something a normal teenage boy would do at this hour, right?"

Jazz squeezed his shoulder. "You know that would get Sam in trouble, too, right?"

"Sam will do this for me," said Danny, writing out a coded message to his goth friend. "She'd be more than happy to get in trouble with me. I know her." He sent the text. "I can always count on Sam."

Jazz nodded. She then pulled out her own phone. "I'm going to call Mom and tell her you're back, okay?"

Danny only listened as Jazz spoke to Maddie. He could not hear Maddie's side very well, just shrill chatter that sounded joyful. She sounded so happy to know he was okay, but Danny could not banish the memory of how she spoke to him less than half an hour before.

Jazz disconnected the call. "They're on their way back."

Danny sighed heavily. "I guess I have to talk to her."

The two teenagers headed downstairs. Jazz reactivated the ghost shield before joining Danny in the living room on the couch. Danny tried to practice his story, tried to calm himself so that he wouldn't have another breakdown when confronted by his mother.

But the more he tried to diminish his anxiety, the worse it actually became.

He instead tried to focus on the pain in his arm from the injection and the pain at the base of his neck from when his mother originally shot him. He could feel them now, aching, throbbing pains that radiated from the original puncture sites.

This physical pain was preferable for now.

At last, the front door swung open. Danny and Jazz both stood as their parents came in.

"Danny!" Maddie ran up to her son and threw her arms around him. "I was worried sick!"

Danny stood still, leaned back slightly.

Maddie pulled back, her hands now on his shoulders. "Where have you been, young man?"

Danny stared at her blankly. He tried not to focus on her, tried not to conjure any feelings at all, afraid that they would twist into something that he wouldn't be able to control. "I'm sorry for worrying you. I was with Sam."

Maddie furrowed her brow in confusion. "Sam?"

"Yes," said Danny flatly, monotonously. "I'm sorry."

Jack laughed. "Ah, kids."

Maddie turned to her husband. "Jack, this is serious."

"Uh…yes, it is," agreed Jack quickly. "And we will definitely have a talk with Sam's parents tomorrow."

"We certainly will." Maddie turned back to Danny. "And we'll have to think of a suitable punishment for you, Danny." Her expression then softened. "But I'm so relieved you're safe. I was afraid that…" She paused. "Well, it doesn't matter. You're safe."

"Yes," said Danny quietly. "I am."

But he almost wasn't.

Almost wasn't because of—

Maddie studied him. "Are you okay, Danny?"

Danny nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just…really sorry. And tired."

Maddie frowned. "You seem…I feel like something's wrong." She ran her fingers through his hair.

—grabbed him roughly by his hair—

_You are not worth any more trouble—_

_My God. She's really going to—_

Danny sharply inhaled and pulled away so that Maddie was no longer touching him.

Maddie was alarmed. "Danny?"

Danny forced an apologetic smile. "I'm fine, really. I promise."

Maddie moved her eyes over his face. "You know you can talk to me, right?"

Danny inclined his head. "Of course I know that. You're my mother." He tried to keep his tone light, untroubled. "Is it all right if I go to bed now, or do you still want to talk about this?"

Maddie hesitated before nodding. "Yes. We'll talk tomorrow."

She leaned in to kiss his head, but Danny evaded her and briskly walked away and up the stairs. He could feel Jazz walking behind him. He could hear his parents conversing in low voices.

He entered his room and closed the door. He leaned against it for a moment, his eyes closed.

So much, too much.

Would this go away, revert?

Could it?

If he ignored this pain, would it subside on its own?

 


	2. Chapter 2

Sunlight, and for a moment, everything was well and ordinary. The memory of what happened during the early hours of the morning returned quickly, but even with only a couple hours of sleep, Danny was able to reflect on it more coherently now.

He had tossed and turned for a long time, the bruise on his head and the injection site on his neck preventing him from getting comfortable, thoughts of what had happened refusing to let him sleep. Worry, doubt, mistrust, paranoia. What would happen now? Would his mother hate his ghostly identity more than ever? What if she trapped him like that again?

Was it time for him to finally tell her the truth? Or would that only give her the advantage she wanted to finally have him at her mercy?

Groggily, he swung his legs over the side of his bed and sat there for some time. So tired, so exhausted, but he had to somehow pull off this morning. He had to see his mother again at breakfast, and he absolutely had to keep it together so that she wouldn't be too suspicious and question him. He had done a very poor job of interacting with her just six hours earlier; he couldn't act like that again.

A shower sounded divine. He could surely just rinse all of this away, and then he'd be renewed, restored, and able to take on anything.

Heat far up. So much steam that he could see nothing. There was nothing beyond this cloud. Weightless and relaxed and—

The soreness in his arm. A powerfully dull ache that he could feel with each movement. From when Jazz had to—

Stop. Calm down. This felt good now, this soothing heat. Mollifying and softening and—

The bruise on the back of his head. He could feel it as he massaged shampoo into his hair. She had hit him with her ecto-gun. He could not recall what she had said when she hit him, but he knew it was in response to something he said first, something that made her—

Enough. Block it. Ignore it. Mask it. An invisible trip to the medicine cabinet in the kitchen since he still wasn't dressed. Eight hundred milligrams of ibuprofen.

Back in his room, he observed the injection sites on his arm and on the back of his neck. They had swelled considerably in the past few hours, large patches of deep red inflammation that were hot to the touch. He had to hide them, could not let his mother see them. He could not possibly explain them to her. It wasn't cool enough for him to get away with wearing a jacket, but a loose shirt with sleeves that stopped just above his elbows hid the site on his arm well. As for the one on the back of his neck, well, he would just have to pull at the front of his collar to keep it hidden whenever his mother was behind him.

He looked at himself in his mirror, practiced his smile. He did feel considerably better. He had simply been weak before, was actually now quite embarrassed by how poorly he had handled the situation just hours before. His head was clearer now, and he could do this. It would all be fine.

Downstairs, his family was already seated and enjoying breakfast. He was almost always the last one downstairs. Nothing suspicious about him being the last one this time either. He was off to a good, normal start.

Maddie placed a bowl of hot cereal before him. She seemed chipper as usual. Normal. Danny gave her his most genuine smile, and she smiled back.

So far, so good.

Normal breakfast conversation. Danny listened to the other members of his family talking. He was actually getting through this. He was actually pulling this—

"Danny? You've been quiet. You okay?" Maddie suddenly asked.

Danny froze. He had been so focused on everything being "normal" that he had forgotten that he usually joined in the morning conversations over breakfast. He had so far said absolutely nothing to anyone, not even a "good morning."

"Yes!" he said. Too enthusiastic. Reel it in. "Yeah, just fine. Just, um…tired."

"Well, you were up awfully late last night." A tease, a joke. Maddie was trying to relieve tension.

Danny didn't want to reply to this. He tried to chuckle, but it wouldn't come out. "Right, yeah," he finally managed with a forced smile. He didn't want to talk about it, had hoped that she wouldn't mention it. But did he really expect her to not bring it up?

Maddie became serious, but there was also discomfort and apology in her tone now. "We do need to discuss what happened last night. You know that, right?"

Danny nodded.

"But not now, of course," said Jack quickly.

"No, no. After school," confirmed Maddie. "We'll talk about it later this afternoon and decide where to go from there. Okay?"

"Yes," said Danny simply.

"That means no hanging out with Sam and Tucker. Come straight home."

"I understand."

Maddie looked at him curiously. "You do?"

Suspicion. He was blowing this.

"No fight at all?" Maddie leaned back in her chair thoughtfully.

Oh, right. He was usually not quite so compliant when he was in trouble. Like any regular teen, he would usually bicker, defend himself, or at least try to find a compromise.

But it was too late now. He would raise even more suspicion if he changed his reaction now.

She was so good at trapping him.

"I just recognize that what I did was irresponsible," said Danny. Wait, was that the right word? Irresponsible? Or was disrespectful the right word? Wait, what was he trying to describe again? What had been his excuse, the alibi he had invented? Temperature increasing, the heat from his injections traveling through him. Why was she looking at him so expectantly? Ah, because of the way he had ended his sentence with a slight rise in pitch, as if he had more to say. She was waiting for him to say more, but he had already lost his train of thought. Say something, say something! Anything! Well, not anything, but something that makes sense! Be normal! "And I really am sorry," he frantically blurted.

Maddie studied him, so intently that Danny was sure she could see right through him. She wasn't buying this. She was a genius, after all, certainly smarter than him. He could never fool her, couldn't possibly—

But then Maddie relinquished her stare and started clearing the table. Danny breathed a sigh of relief.

"You're being quite mature about this, Danny," said Maddie. "Thank you for that."

She ran an affectionate hand through his hair. Danny winced as she brushed his bruised area.

"What?" Maddie had noticed his reaction. Great. Why couldn't he get this right?

"What?" Danny echoed in an admittedly pitiful attempt to dismiss the issue.

"Is there something…?"

Maddie went to feel the back of his head again, but Danny quickly stood before she could get the chance.

"Do you want help with the dishes?" He grabbed his bowl and headed for the sink, moved away from her, pulled at the front of his collar to hide the puncture at the base of his neck.

"Danny, you're acting very strangely," said Maddie.

Danny kept his back to her so that she couldn't see his anxiety in his face. Damn it. How was he going to fix this?

"Mom, you're just going to make him more uncomfortable," Jazz finally piped up. "It's normal for a teen or even an adult to act differently when he knows he's in trouble. Just let him have his space until this afternoon, okay?"

Jazz was saving him, just as she had saved him before with the cancelling agent. Danny prayed that Maddie would accept the offered explanation. He was still at the sink rinsing the same dishes over and over, too afraid to turn around and see his mother holding yet another gun to his head.

"Jazz, could you please take Danny home with you today right after school?" Maddie finally asked.

"Sure thing," said Jazz.

And that was all, the end of that. He had failed miserably, but Jazz had given him a lifeline. He could redeem himself, could try again that afternoon.

In Jazz's car, Danny stared out the window as the scenery rushed by.

"How are you feeling?" asked Jazz.

"Drowsy," said Danny. "I wish I could go back to sleep."

"You know what I mean."

Danny looked at his sister. She only glanced at him before returning her eyes to the road.

"I'm fine."

"You don't seem fine."

"I need to stop thinking about it." Yes, that was it. He had to lock this away. He had to stop being so sensitive. "It wasn't really that big a deal anyway. I mean, honestly, it's not like she was actually trying to hurt  _me_. I shouldn't be so shaken over this."

"Danny, that's dangerous," warned Jazz.

"What is?"

"It's not healthy to ignore it. You should allow yourself to process it."

"Jazz, I don't want your psychotherapy, okay?"

Jazz did not reply. Danny could sense that he had hurt her feelings. His tone had been more snappish than he intended.

"I'm sorry," said Danny quietly. "I really do appreciate what you've done for me." He kept his eyes forward. "But I just want to forget about it. I'll just take whatever punishment Mom and Dad give me, and then I can put all of this out of my mind and pretend it never happened."

"You know it can't be that simple."

He knew that. Of course he knew that.

But he would just have to take any resulting hurdles as they came.


	3. Chapter 3

Lunch hour at Casper High. Danny sat with Sam and Tucker outside, but he did not have an appetite at all, and he was still so tired from only a couple hours of sleep. Despite his fatigue, he had tried all morning to focus in class. For once, he actually really did try to pay attention and take notes, tried to be a good student.

Anything to keep the memory of the night before at bay.

"Danny, can we talk about last night?" asked Sam.

Danny looked at his goth friend.  _No, absolutely not,_  he wanted to tell her.

"I mean, I think we should get our story straight," continued Sam, "if you really want me to give you this alibi."

Oh, right. He had texted Sam and asked her to pretend that he had been with her instead of cornered and trapped and on his knees—

"What exactly happened last night? Why do you even need an alibi?" asked Tucker.

Sam or Tucker didn't know the full story. And he wasn't about to tell them. No way he was going to recount it, certainly not here. Not now. Not ever.

Danny pushed his uneaten lunch aside and placed his arms on the table. "I was out ghost-hunting last night well past curfew, and my parents noticed I was gone. I just needed to give them a convincing excuse, so I told them I was with Sam." He looked apologetically at Sam. "I'm sorry for doing that to you, but it was the best excuse I could think of."

Sam put up a hand and smiled. "Hey, I'm here for you. Anything that could reveal your secret is a problem for all of us, so I'm happy to help." She chuckled. "I already know exactly what my mom is going to say. I've got my responses all planned out."

"I figured you'd be cool with it," said Danny, also smiling. "Thank you."

Silence. A very uncomfortable silence. Sam and Tucker were looking at him expectantly, but Danny did not know what they were waiting for.

"Is there anything else you want to tell us about last night?" asked Sam gently.

"Yes," agreed Tucker. "Anything at all?"

No…

He could hear it in their voices, see it in their eyes.

They knew.

Somehow, they already knew.

Danny shook his head. "Nothing."

More silence, even more uncomfortable than before.

Sam and Tucker exchanged glances, wordlessly debated something between them. Who was going to speak first? Who was going to confess to him that they knew the truth?

"Danny," said Sam at last. She clasped her hands and breathed deeply. "Jazz e-mailed us."

A flash of anger, a feeling of betrayal, but Danny swallowed it down. "Did she?" he asked evenly.

"Yes," confirmed Tucker.

Danny could see that they were waiting for him to say something, but there was no way he was going to talk about it.

"Danny?" Sam reached across the table for his hand. "Danny, talk to us, please?"

Danny pulled his hand back. "I don't know what she said to you, but it really wasn't a big deal. I just need an alibi, okay?"

"From what Jazz told us, it definitely seems like a big deal," said Tucker. "We've never known you to react that way to anything."

"What way? What reaction?" Danny tried to keep calm, but he could feel his irritation building.

"Just…from the way Jazz described it, you were very, um…" Sam bit her lip. She was obviously trying to find the most delicate way to word what she wanted to say. "Er…traumatized…?"

Danny rolled his eyes. "I was just tired. I overreacted."

"Danny—"

"No. I can't believe Jazz e-mailed you. Why would she do that?"

"Because it's something we should know," said Sam. "We're a team, and anything that involves your ghost side is something we need to know so that we can help you!"

"It wasn't her business to tell you."

"Well, you certainly weren't ever going to tell us on your own, were you?"

Danny didn't reply.

"That's why she told us, because she knew you wouldn't." Sam crossed her arms. "And she was right, obviously. You were seriously not ever going to tell us."

"It's not something you needed to know."

"We  _did_  need to know," retorted Sam. "You're our friend, and we care about you. We want to help you through this."

"There's nothing to help me through!" snapped Danny. "I'm fine. I was just a little shaken from not being able to change back, but I'm fine now."

"Danny, it's okay," said Tucker. "It's perfectly understandable. I mean, it was your own mom. Even I wouldn't take that well. No one would."

"No," said Danny. "It was nothing. Seriously, I just overreacted. She wasn't actually even trying to hurt  _me_. She didn't know it was me."

"But it  _was_  you," Sam said softly but firmly.

"I'm aware of that, Sam," said Danny dryly.

His friends looked so concerned. Danny could see that, but he was far too vexed to appreciate it or to feel guilty about being so cross with them. He knew they were just trying to help, but if they really wanted to help him, they would drop it.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," said Danny finally.

His friends said nothing, and in that silence, Danny did feel a twinge of guilt. Sam had agreed to get in trouble with him, after all.

"Sam, really, thank you." Danny did not look at her, but he tried to sound sincere. "For helping me out."

Sam smiled and nodded. "Anytime."

Sam and Tucker attempted to engage him in more pleasant conversation, trivial matters, amusing small-talk.

Yes, yes, this was good. The pain would subside on its own as long as he stopped aggravating it, stopped acknowledging it.

-DP-

"So, let's talk about this seriously."

Maddie and Jack sat in their living room. They would normally be busy working in their basement on their ghost-related research or inventions, but their son had to come first.

Jack sighed. "It was just one time, and he was just with Sam."

"Yes," agreed Maddie. "I don't think it was necessarily coming from a place of rebellion or disobedience, but we can't just let this go, Jack. We need to be firm from the beginning."

"Or what? You think he'll sneak out again? Or more often?"

"I don't know. It certainly is surprising to me," admitted Maddie. "I think we definitely need to sit down with him about this, get more of his side." She tilted her head back and closed her eyes. "But regardless, we still have to punish him."

Jack grumbled.

"I know, I know. I hate disciplining our kids, too. But it's our responsibility as parents," said Maddie. "I mean, ghosts really do roam this city at night! What if something had happened to him on his way home?"

"Danny takes after us," said Jack with a proud smile. "He can look after himself."

"And from what Phantom was about to tell me, it seems that Danny has had some experiences with ghosts already." Maddie frowned. "I'm going to have to ask him about that."

Jack studied her. "You're still upset that Phantom got away, aren't you?"

Maddie groaned. She had him. He had been right there, right in her grasp. She had never actually planned on killing him, had just been so thrilled to finally have caught him, a hunter finally claiming her prey. She had him, and all of the town's ghost problems would surely end with him just as they had started with him. He was all hers, and she had enjoyed her victory so much, too much, so much so that she waited far too long, and he ended up getting an opening that allowed him to escape.

But he had mentioned having contact with Danny…

She wished she had let Phantom continue, but the mention of her son filled her with such paranoia and grave concern that she had cut him off before he could finish telling her what interaction the ghost had had with Danny.

Perhaps Danny could help her finally capture Phantom…

No, she couldn't think about that now. Right now, Danny's sneaking out and breaking curfew had to be dealt with. She had to be a parent first and a scientist second.

"I need to call Pam," Maddie finally said.

"I'll go make us lunch," said Jack. "Let me know how it goes."

Jack left the room. Maddie pulled out her cell phone and dialed Pamela Manson.

"Maddie! Hello!" Pam's voice sounded pleasant and cheerful over the phone.

"Hi, Pam."

"How are you doing?"

"Fine, fine." Maddie sighed. "Listen, I called to talk to you about something important."

"That doesn't sound good. Everything okay?"

"Yes, everything's fine, but…" Maddie paused. "I guess I'll just get right to the point. Danny broke curfew last night and didn't get home until well past one in the morning."

Pam said nothing for a few moments. "I see. And…?"

"Well, he told us that it was because he was with Sam last night."

"Sam? My Sammy?"

"Yes."

"That's impossible."

Maddie sat up straighter.

"We have a sophisticated alarm system, and Sam was definitely home when we set it," said Pam. "We would know if she had turned it off to let him in or out. Or for her to sneak out herself."

Maddie processed this information. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," snapped Pam. "There's no way."

"But he said—"

"I don't care what he said. He's lying if he said he was with Sam."

Maddie gritted her teeth. "My son isn't a liar."

"He obviously is since there's no way he was with Sam. She would've had to turn off the alarm for him, and it alerts us very loudly whenever it is switched off."

"No, he—"

"Maddie, I have no idea what your son was really doing last night, but I'm not going to let him use Sam as an excuse."

"Danny wouldn't—"

"You know, ever since Sam met Danny, she's become increasingly difficult and rebellious."

"Are you seriously blaming my son for that?"

"I'm just stating a correlation. And now, he has the gall to implicate Sam in whatever secret activity he doesn't want you to know about. I won't accept it, Maddie."

"Pam—"

"Knowing him, I wouldn't be surprised if it's drugs. He's always so worn-out every time I see him. Bloodshot eyes. Often seems tense. And I've definitely noticed that our supply of narcotic painkillers depletes every time he comes over."

"Wait, what? What are you talking about?" sputtered Maddie. "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"I'm telling you now."

"But—no—he isn't—"

"Come on, Maddie. Low grades? Often late to class? You really think that doesn't all mean something?"

Maddie shook her head. "No, Danny is  _not_  doing drugs."

"Well, he's doing  _something_ ," insisted Pam angrily, "and he's trying to use Sam to hide it."

"Pam, that's just what Danny told me, okay?" Maddie tried to keep her tone calm and civil.

"Well, tell your lowlife hoodlum son to stop lying about my daughter."

"What? What did you just call him?" demanded Maddie, her tone now angry and loud.

Disconnection. Maddie lowered her cell phone and stared at it in numb disbelief. She wanted to throw it across the room, but she instead curled her fingers around it and gripped it tightly.

After sitting there for some time, she finally rose and entered the kitchen where Jack was finishing up grilled panini sandwiches.

"We have a problem," said Maddie plainly.

Jack didn't look at her, kept his eyes down in apprehensive anticipation of what she would say next.

"Pam insists that Danny was not with Sam last night."

Jack didn't move for a moment. He then slowly lifted his head to meet her gaze. "I heard your side of the conversation," he said quietly.

Maddie leaned against the wall. "What do you think?"

"I think that we shouldn't jump to conclusions."

"But you didn't hear what she said. She said that he often looks—and painkillers—I mean, I've actually noticed that our painkillers have also been disappearing at a quicker rate—and yes, he does seem to look a bit harried a lot of the time—"

"Don't do this to yourself," said Jack. "Even if Danny did lie about being with Sam, we owe it to him to let him explain it without making assumptions." Jack seemed resolute, confident. "Our son is a good kid. He always has been."

"It's just…I mean, the way he acted last night, and then this morning." Maddie rubbed her scalp. "Something about all this doesn't feel right."

"We know our son far better than Pam does," said Jack firmly. "We need to give him a chance to defend himself."

Maddie nodded. She took the sandwich Jack had prepared and joined him at the kitchen table. There was nothing either of them could do now, not until Danny returned from school. She tried to reassure herself that she did know her son better than Pam, that she knew Danny very well.

But she had never thought that Danny would sneak out. She had never seen him act like he had the night before and that morning, on edge and…

Afraid…?

Of what?

It appeared that there was definitely something she didn't know about him, something significant.


	4. Chapter 4

The final bell. Danny took his time at his locker as dread coursed through him. He had to return, had to face her again. He had failed twice with her now. He couldn't let that happen again.

But the positive feedback loop of his anxiety seemed unbreakable. The more he tried to calm himself, the more anxious he felt about not being able to calm himself. Building, building, building, not breaking down at all.

He said hurried goodbyes to his friends after squaring his alibi with Sam one final time. He had been with her in her room, had lost of track of time, he hadn't meant to worry anyone, sorry, sorry, so sorry, it won't happen again, please don't ask any more questions and just accept this story.

Jazz was waiting for him by her car. She looked up as he approached. "Hey," she greeted him.

Danny's gaze hardened. Jazz seemed to notice the look, but he waited until they were in her car before speaking. "Why did you e-mail Sam and Tucker about what happened last night?"

Jazz was quiet for only a moment. "Because I knew you wouldn't tell them."

"And what made you think it was  _your_  place to tell them?"

"They needed to know."

"No, they didn't."

"Yes, they did," insisted Jazz, her eyes fixed straight ahead.

"Even if they did, which they didn't," said Danny, "it wasn't your place to tell them." Anger, so much, replacing his anxiety and dread for the time being. This felt better. It was almost therapeutic to direct aggression at something. "If anyone was going to tell them, it should've been me."

"I completely agree, but like I said, you would've never told them." She glanced at him. "Right? I'm right. You would've kept it from them."

"Because they didn't need to know."

"Yes, they did."

"No!" snapped Danny. "Who do you think you are to decide that? It's my life, my friends, my decision." He massaged the back of his neck, tried to knead the aching soreness from the injection site in an attempt to spread it, diffuse it in some way. The pain in his arm had dulled significantly, but there was still a heaviness that made it difficult to comfortably rest or move.

"I care about you, Danny." Jazz's tone was so calm, so civil. So irritating. "This was not a small thing, and you need help to get through it."

"I'm fine." How many times did he have to say this? "It was not a big deal. I overreacted. That's all."

"You're not fine. This is not how you normally act."

"You're right. I'm not normally this pissed off with you."

"You know that's not what I'm talking about."

"Then what  _are_  you talking about?"

Jazz's eyes narrowed, but she did not look at him.

"I'm fine, Jazz."

"You're not fooling anyone, certainly not Mom."

Anger rejoined by anxiety and dread. Danny could only inhale deeply.

"And you'll never fool anyone, not when you're so traumatized that you can't even put on a good affectation."

Traumatized? No, how dare she use that word. No, he was not that weak. He had been through far worse, had almost been killed many times. Did she really think something like this could actually traumatize him? Just how little did she think of him?

But he didn't want to argue about it, didn't want to talk about it all. He latched onto something else, something removed from the incident. "Affec—? What? Are you kidding me?" Attack, attack. His best self-defense. "You honestly think I know that word?"

Jazz sighed. "It means—"

"No. I know what it means. It means that you're smart and I'm stupid. I get it."

"Danny, please, that's not—"

He was done. Done with her, done with this. He was resolved to not speak to her again, would ignore her if she tried to say anything more. He pulled out his cell phone and earphones from his bag. He'd drown her out with something, whatever random song started playing first.

Jazz was saying something. Volume up. He was covering his ears and blocking her out. Closed off, distanced, locked away. No one could get him now. No one could get in.

The car at last pulled up to their house. Music still blasting in his head, he stared out the window. The music was fading away as his anxiety returned. She was in there waiting for him. He couldn't run away from this.

Jazz gently pulled the earphone out of his left ear causing him to whip his head around to look at her. She held up a hand in an attempt to curb his irritation.

"I'm sorry," she told him quietly, seriously. "Telling Sam and Tucker without your permission was out of line."

She seemed genuinely repentant. Danny did not reply. It was over and done. Sam and Tucker knew, and he wouldn't be able to change that.

It was time to get over his next hurdle. He clutched his school bag to him tightly and tried to breathe, tried to ready himself.

"One thing." Jazz leaned over and opened the glove compartment in front of him. She rummaged through and pulled out a small pill bottle. "This should help with the pain and inflammation. I just noticed you rubbing your neck and arm a lot."

Ibuprofen. Yes. He definitely needed more, the relief from the dose he had taken earlier having already worn off. He poured four pills into his hand, eight hundred milligrams.

"Whoa!" Jazz was alarmed. "You sure you want to take that many?"

"I always take this many."

"But that's a lot. Do you really think you need that much?"

"Yes, I do." Danny shrugged. "Look, I didn't take any this morning. It'll be fine."

A lie. He had taken four that morning. But he wasn't going to tell her that, certainly not now. She would just tell Sam or Tucker or perhaps even their parents. And he needed this. He deserved this. After everything he went through for this town, he'd be damned if he let anyone tell him he had to suffer through the pain. Besides, this was still well below the maximum of thirty-two hundred milligrams he had looked up online. He had taken more than this in one day before, and it had never had any noticeable adverse effects. And it was just ibuprofen, not something easy to overdose on like acetaminophen. He would just be sure to take something different the next day. Totally fine. All fine. He would be fine. He was fine.

Jazz did not argue further. He popped the pills in his mouth and dry swallowed them. He leaned back, closed his eyes, moved his head to the right so that the bruise on the back of his head was not in painful contact with the headrest.

Quiet, a still silence.

"Danny," said Jazz, shattering the quiet. "You can't stay here forever."

Danny opened his eyes. The dread was back in full force. He had to go, had to see her again.

But no, why was he feeling this way? He was fine, remember? It was nothing, something he should've been able to handle, something that should've never taken hostage of his emotions and physicalities.

He was lying. He was lying to himself. It was a profound realization, one that heightened his anxiety so much that he had to gasp in air, had to force himself to breathe because the respiratory control center in his brain was paralyzed by choked by strangled by imprisoned by—

_No, I'm FINE—_

_No, I'm not. I'm—_

_FINE._

_I can do this. I can I can—_

_NO. I can't. I can't I can't I can't—_

_No, I can. I don't want to, but I can—_

_CAN'T._

_I can't, but I have to._

Jazz was studying him intensely with grave concern. In that moment, he wanted to confide in her, wanted her to know just how frightened he was. She was right, he was wrong. He wasn't fine. If he could just tell her, share with her the burden of his fear.

But he couldn't. He couldn't trust her with this. She would just tell Sam and Tucker. She would just try to fix him. She could never just listen.

She wasn't his ally right now.

He stepped out of the car and walked toward the house, a deliberate breath with each step.

He stood before the front door. He was fine. He was not afraid. Whatever had seized him just moments before was gone. He felt stable again.

Fine.

Jazz was suddenly next to him. "Do you want me to go in first?"

No. He could do this. He had to prove to her that he was  _fine_.

He pushed through the front door to find their parents waiting for him in the living room.

"How was school?" asked Maddie, the always-asked parental question.

"Great," said Jazz.

Danny didn't say anything. No, he had to say something. But he didn't have the words. School was certainly not great for him. He had to lie, had to say that it was great for him, too, couldn't stay quiet again or—

"Danny, are you ready to talk now? Or do you need a moment?"

Okay, too late to say how school was. New question to answer. Was he ready? No.

He nodded.

Maddie gave him an awry glance. "Is that a yes, you're ready to talk? Or a yes, you need a moment?"

How could he already be screwing this up? Again?

Deep breath. "I can talk now," he said as calmly as he could.

Jazz left the room, and then it was just him and his parents. This was it. This was his final life. If he lost again, there would be no restarts.

He sat at one end of the living room sofa, his parents at the other. They looked uncomfortable. Their hesitation suggested they were not sure how to begin.

"Danny." Jack was speaking first. Danny focused on him. "We'd like to know exactly what you were doing last night."

"Yes." Now Maddie. Danny kept his eyes on Jack. "Tell us from the beginning. When did you leave, where did you go, when did you get back?"

"You were definitely here when we all went to bed," said Jack. "So that means you left the house after ten, well after your curfew of nine on school nights."

How to answer? As a moody rebellious teenager? Or as a mature repentant son? Which one, which  _affectation_  would be more convincing? Which would be less suspicious?

That morning, he had already adopted the persona of a mature repentant son, so perhaps it would be best to stick with that.

"You're right," began Danny. "I snuck out after you guys went to bed." He paused, but they were waiting for him to continue. "And like I told you last night, I went to see Sam. We, um…we just wanted to hang out, talk, and…" Should he say anything more? Would it be believable to say they were just talking? He didn't want to drag Sam through the mud any further and say that they were doing anything more than that, fooling around, intimately satisfying their adolescent hormones. Besides, he and Sam  _weren't_  dating. Maybe someday (hopefully someday maybe if she wanted), but he couldn't lie that much, couldn't do that to Sam.

"Where?" asked Maddie.

"Hmm?" Danny was not prepared for this interjection.

"Where did you and Sam hang out?"

"Her house. In her room."

"And how did you get in?" asked Jack.

Danny did not like the pointed nature of this question. His internal warning system was blaring, but he had to ignore it, had to keep his composure. "Through her window. We didn't want her parents to know I was there."

Maddie and Jack were quiet for some time, long enough that Danny knew he had made some fatal error.

"Her window," echoed Maddie at last. "Did she open it for you?"

What an oddly specific question. Danny could not reply. He did not know how to correctly answer this. Test-taking strategy: skip this one and move on to the next, come back to it later if there is time.

"Danny." Maddie's tone was much more serious now. She leaned forward and looked straight at him. Danny forced himself to meet her gaze. "Did she open the window for you, Danny?"

No, he couldn't skip this one. Not permitted, denied. "Yes," he said. Why were they asking this? Weren't they more interested in knowing  _why_  he was with Sam, what he was doing with her? Why he felt the need to be with her so late at night? Why did it matter if she opened the window for him or not?

"And is that the truth?" asked Jack.

Stunned into silence. They knew he was lying. No, how could they possibly—

No, no, it had to be another tactic, another ploy to catch him. Once again trapped and on his knees, forced to explain himself, forced to beg for mercy. A test, just another research experiment. They had formed their hypothesis and were just waiting for the results, his response. Unable to transform, unable to become invisible, unable to fly away, a different gun trained on him.

What should he do? Call their bluff and stick to the story he had worked out with Sam? Or try to invent a new story? But then he'd have to come up with a reason for why he made up a story in the first place.

"Yes," he finally said. "That's the truth."

Maddie and Jack exchanged glances of apprehension and disappointment.

"Danny." Maddie leaned forward again. "We're going to give you another chance to tell us what you were really doing."

Fading, dropping, falling—

"We promise we won't be upset with you for lying," said Jack. "Just please tell us the truth."

How could they know? What did they know already? Danny's eyes darted from one parent to the other as he tried to make sense of their accusation. Yes, they were absolutely right, but that was beside the point.

Pause, pause, please pause this; he had to think.

"I called Sam's mom," Maddie explained. "Do you know about their alarm system, Danny?"

The Mansons' alarm system. Yes, he knew about it. Anytime a door or window was opened, it would send an alert through the whole house, and when the alarm was set, opening a door or window would trigger the loudest and most obnoxious—

Oh.

Oh, God, oh, no—

"She didn't open the window for you, did she, Danny?" Maddie's tone was quiet. "You weren't really with Sam, were you?" Not really questions. Factual statements in disguise.

Even if he had actually been with Sam, the security system was never a problem. Phasing in and out never affected it. But they didn't know that. Or did they? Did they know his secret after all? Had they finally figured it out?

He was failing, he was crashing, he was on a speed run to Game Over.

Maddie's cell phone rang. Jack and Maddie both looked at the Caller ID curiously.

"Pam?" murmured Maddie.

"Maybe she's calling to apologize for what she said?" offered Jack.

"Yeah, right." Maddie accepted the call and answered cautiously.

Someone had pressed pause for him. Perhaps he could think of something, something that didn't get him or anyone else in too much trouble but would also explain why he had lied in the first place.

But then the call was over, and Danny still hadn't thought of anything. He waited for his parents to turn their attention back to him and demand the truth again.

"Well?" Jack asked Maddie. "What did Pam say?"

Maddie looked at Danny and sighed. "We owe you an apology, Danny."

Danny could only blink.

"Sam's mom just told me that Sam confirmed that you were with her last night."

Jack furrowed his brow. "But Pam threw such a fit about their security system."

"Apparently, Sam used a magnet to keep the sensor engaged even with the window open."

Jack crossed his arms and laughed. "What? With all their money, their security system is that easily tricked?"

"Pam said she didn't believe it at first either, but then Sam demonstrated it for her." Maddie shrugged and also smiled.

Dumbfounded, speechless, Danny couldn't believe his luck. How lucky he was to have a friend like Sam. She was surely the most brilliant girl on the planet, the most amazing, most talented, most intelligent, most beautiful—

Er—

"I'm sorry to have doubted you, Danny," said Maddie seriously. "I know you're not a liar."

And just like that, he was back to feeling terrible. He had been lying to her for so long now.

"But you did sneak out," said Maddie. "We can't let that go."

Danny waited. Jack and Maddie once again looked uncomfortable, Jack especially.

"Danny, what you did was not only disrespectful to our rules but also dangerous." Maddie was looking at him, and although Danny wanted to look away, he maintained eye contact with her. "You do know that ghosts are most active at night? And they are rampant in our town."

"Right. We had our own encounter with a couple last night when we were out looking for you," said Jack.

"Exactly," confirmed Maddie. "And even with our expertise, we definitely could've been killed."

"Nah," said Jack. "Never. Not us."

"Jack," said Maddie sharply. "We're trying to instill a lesson here."

Jack smiled sheepishly.

"Danny, we don't want you to think we don't trust you or that we don't think you're responsible enough to be out on your own," said Maddie, "but you're our son, our child, and…and we need to know where you are at all times, especially during the night. We have these rules not to restrict you or Jazz but to keep you two safe." She paused and cocked her head. "Do you understand that, Danny?"

Danny understood every word. But just how much safer was he living with scientists who so often openly discussed the explicit details of the sickening things they wanted to do to him?

"I do understand," said Danny quietly. "I really am sorry for sneaking out and worrying you. I won't do it again."

"We believe you," said Maddie with a small smile, "but like I said before, we can't just let this go."

Danny looked down. He knew what was coming next.

"Your father and I talked about it." Maddie patted Jack's leg. "Since this was the first—and hopefully only—time, we won't be too harsh, but we will be strict about it." She straightened up. "You are to go to school with Jazz and come home immediately afterwards with her, just like today. No hanging out with Sam or Tucker. When you're home, you're to be out here where we can see you, not in your room. We moved your computer so that you can do your homework down here."

Maddie gestured to Danny's computer that was clearly right there. How could he not have noticed it before? He hoped that they hadn't gone through the contents of his hard drive. He had hidden and password-protected his ghost files, but they could be found if they were determined enough to find them.

"You can only be in your room at night to sleep," continued Maddie, "but you must keep your door open."

Danny couldn't bring himself to meet her gaze. After what happened the night before, he didn't think he could possibly feel more degraded.

But he had to accept their terms. He had no choice.

"How long?" he asked in a low voice.

"Just one week," said Jack quickly, ruefully even. "Until next Thursday."

"Which means no going out this weekend either," said Maddie.

Danny remained quiet and still kept his eyes down but nodded to show he understood.

Exhaustion. Suddenly, he was hit by a wave of drowsiness. He could collapse right there, certainly fall asleep as soon as he was down.

"You okay, Danny?"

"Hmm?" Danny looked up through half-lidded eyes.

"Is there anything else you want to talk about?" asked Maddie with keen concern.

Danny was sure she was thinking back to his behavior the night before and at breakfast. He certainly had acted oddly. "No," he said with a small shake of his head and a weak smile.

Maddie and Jack were quiet again, but they didn't press any further.

"Do you have homework?" asked Jack.

"Of course."

"Do it down here," said Maddie.

"Now?" He wasn't sure he had the energy. His head was so clouded by the strong need for sleep.

"Yes," said Maddie.

No use arguing. They were the parents, he was the child. They had to win, he had to lose.

"Can I go upstairs first? Get some things, use the bathroom?"

"Of course," said Maddie. "Be back down in ten minutes."

He stood, somehow managed to stay balanced and upright. He pulled at his shirt collar as he started walking up the stairs to conceal the injection site on his neck. He took out his cell phone to send Sam a message, a quick thank-you.

"Oh, Danny," Maddie called after him.

Danny halted and turned around. Maddie approached the stairs but did not ascend them.

"Your phone." She held out a hand. "We're taking that for the week, too."

Danny froze. "My phone?" He glanced down at it, then back at Maddie. "Why?"

"It's just what we decided."

Danny clutched his phone. His messages to Sam, Tucker, and even Jazz were hidden in an app that was disguised as something ordinary, an inconspicuous math app. She wouldn't find those messages unless she thoroughly investigated his phone, and even if she did, he and his friends were careful to further code their messages.

But he couldn't risk it. He needed to delete the app before he handed it over.

"Okay," said Danny with a small crack in his voice. "Is it all right if I send a message to Sam and Tuck to let them know?"

Maddie shook her head. "No. Your passcode is still four three oh four, right? If you want, I could respond to their messages and let them know for you."

"No!" cried Danny far too quickly. Maddie was noticeably startled by his quick outburst. "I mean, no, I'd rather you not do that. I'll just tell them at school tomorrow. Or I'll tell Jazz to let them know."

"All right, then." Maddie climbed a couple of the stairs, her hand still held out to him.

Danny looked down at his phone again. If he deleted it now, right with her staring at him, he would not only get in even more trouble for openly defying her, but she would be suspicious about what he was doing, what he was trying to hide from her.

If he really didn't want her to pry any further, he had to play this as cool as possible. She had never been the type to invade his privacy without reason, after all. He would just have to invisibly retrieve the phone that night and delete the app then.

Shaking only slightly, he placed his phone in Maddie's hand.


	5. Chapter 5

Not right. Not normal.

Maddie observed Danny across the dinner table. Lidded eyes, sluggish responses. But that wasn't what was unusual to her. She had seen him like this before when he was exhausted from lack of sleep.

But she had never seen him so on edge.

He had been in trouble before. Several times. He typically accepted the consequences without rebelling, would perhaps bicker and be sullen about it at most. He had never acted like this before, as if he wanted to call no attention to it all, as if he was afraid of doing anything else that could potentially make her disappointed or angry.

His eyes would droop, his jaw would slack, but as soon as she called his attention or asked him a question, he would immediately straighten up and look her straight in the eye, as if he was trying really hard to be something just for her. His smile was odd and misplaced, incongruous even. He would smile every time he spoke to her even if it did not suit the content.

And he only did this with her. Questions from Jack or Jazz seemed to not have this peculiar effect on him.

After dinner, Maddie placed a hand on Danny's shoulder as he walked to the living room. She could feel him tense as he met her gaze.

"Maybe you should go to bed, Danny. You look so tired," said Maddie.

Danny's eyes moved over her face. He pulled away so that her hand was no longer on his shoulder. A small act, perhaps, but it did not go unnoticed.

"Or maybe we should talk." Maddie did not try to touch him again. "What's going on with you, Danny?"

A flash in his eyes, a twitch, but then that same strange smile was back. "What do you mean?"

Maddie studied him. He was her height now, had grown so much in the past year alone. But then why did he look so fragile, so pale?

"Danny, is there something I can help you with?" she finally asked.

"My homework's not too hard this time, but I could let you know." He started walking to the table his computer was set up on, a stack of papers and textbooks beside it. "I'm almost done."

Avoiding her question. Avoiding her.

"Danny."

Danny paused, turned back. They stood at a distance in deafening silence. Stilling. Slowing. His mismatched smile was gone, replaced with a countenance of stone. He said nothing at all and yet so much.

"Danny, do you need to borrow my compass?" Jazz walked in between them, restarted time, restored their voices.

"No, I've got my own," said Danny.

"You sure? Mine's a nice one."

"You think it'll make that much of a difference?"

Danny sat at the table. Jazz stood beside him and looked over what he had done so far. Maddie blinked away her confusion at the sudden ending of their moment.

"Mads, should we finish up our work for the night?" asked Jack, coming up from behind.

"Sure," said Maddie automatically. She watched Danny a little longer as he conversed with Jazz about a math concept before following Jack to their basement.

Notes. Hypotheses. Trials. But her mind was not fully present. She stopped her calculations and gazed at the stairs, wondering what Danny was doing just one floor above. Perhaps also trying to make calculations but unable to focus?

"Jack." Maddie finally turned to her husband. "Does Danny seem odd to you?"

Jack never took his eyes off of his own work. "Well, he might have inherited some eccentricities from his parents, yeah."

"No, I mean since last night. And today. This morning. At dinner." Maddie crossed her arms and leaned back against a counter. "He's been acting very strangely, right? Please tell me you've noticed, too."

Jack looked up at the ceiling briefly, chewed the inside of his cheek. "Do you have an example?"

Maddie narrowed her eyes, annoyed that her husband couldn't be more observant. "He's just been jumpy. And avoidant."

"Well, he  _did_  just get caught sneaking out, and then we had to lecture him about it. He's always been a little sensitive."

Yes, their son certainly possessed a timid nature, a characteristic that often robbed him of self-esteem and prevented him from being able to assert or defend himself, a trait that had the golden effect of drawing sympathy but the detrimental effect of attracting harassment. Maddie knew this very well about Danny, had even considered finding a child psychologist for him to talk to, but she had never been sure how to bring it up to him without potentially lowering his self-confidence even further. She didn't want him to think she thought something was wrong with him. She didn't think that at all. Never, not about her darling Danny.

"I've never seen him like this before," said Maddie. "This is different, Jack."

Jack sighed loudly and set down his work very deliberately. He turned around to face Maddie fully. "All right, I'm listening. What are you thinking?"

Maddie took notice of his apparent reluctance and irritation but opted to ignore it. Maybe he'd understand if he just heard her out. "Well, first off, last night when he so readily admitted to being with Sam, almost as if he had rehearsed the answer."

"Go on."

"That didn't seem odd to you? The way he just said it so quickly?"

"He probably knew there was no point in dragging it out."

"But then the way he acted, how he pulled away from me."

"He was in trouble, surely uncomfortable with the whole situation."

"But he's still doing it, still avoiding me. At breakfast, at dinner, and right before we came down here."

"Well, he's still in trouble."

"But this seems like more than discomfort or embarrassment or even guilt." Maddie looked down, tapped her fingers against her crossed arms. "It seems more like…fear."

Jack furrowed his brow. "Fear?"

Maddie nodded.

"And what do you think he's afraid of?"

Maddie threw up her hands. "I don't know! I'm just stating an observation." Observation, one of the first steps in the scientific method. Observe, ask questions.

But she could not form a hypothesis yet. She still did not have enough background information.

"I mean, maybe…" Maddie paused, stared at the floor, thinking, processing. "Maybe he's keeping something from us, something he doesn't want us to know." She looked up at Jack. "Maybe he's afraid we'll figure it out?"

"What do you think he could be keeping from us?" Jack seemed unconvinced. He was clearly only continuing this conversation for her sake.

"Honestly, I'm not so sure that he was with Sam last night."

"And why are you not so sure?"

"Because what would he have been doing with her at that hour? They're not dating, are they?"

"Maybe they are."

"But wouldn't he have told us?"

"He's a teenager."

"It just doesn't seem right to me."

"Maddie, Pam actually called you back just to straighten it up.  _Pam_. Do you think she would've done that if she didn't believe the story herself?"

Maddie recalled just how embarrassingly apologetic Pam sounded as she related how Sam upheld the story after all. But something about this still wasn't settling with her.

"I'm going to ask him about what he was doing with Sam," Maddie finally said. She stood away from the counter she had been leaning against.

Jack frowned. "Right now?"

"Yes. I can't work like this any longer." She caught Jack's eye, saw his uncertainty. "I'm worried about him, Jack."

"All right, but…" Jack shrugged. "You might just make him close off even more."

Maddie pursed her lips. "I won't accuse him of anything. I just want to know why he decided to sneak out to see Sam." Yes, start out simply, a question that would certainly not be out of left field. She was a mother who wanted to know what relationships her son was involved in. That was all.

And maybe…she could open some sort of connection, restore the strong communication link she once had with him.

Upstairs, Danny was still at the table she and Jack had set up for his computer, but his head was down on its surface. As Maddie approached him, she could see that he was sleeping. Steady breathing, head resting on both arms. Perhaps she would've scolded him for falling asleep while doing homework any other time, but he had been up late the night before and seemed to be struggling to stay awake all during dinner.

And maybe that's all it was. Maybe he was just exhausted. Maybe he'd be back to his normal self after getting a sufficient amount of sleep.

She moved so that she could see his face better. It had been so long since she had really looked at him closely. For so long, he had been a small boy, always the smallest in his class, her little aspiring astronaut. But now, she could see just how much he had grown, how fast he was becoming a man. The once childlike softness of his features had been replaced with angled lines, defined points of masculinity. Dense hair falling haphazardly over his forehead and around his ears, hair that he insisted on keeping long despite his reluctance to actually do anything with it. Deep-set eyes framed by lashes just as thick and dark. Widening shoulders leading into the slight muscled curve of his—

—neck—?

A swatch of pink, starkly noticeable against the rest of his pale complexion. Maddie gently pulled at the back collar of his shirt to reveal a small ring of inflammation radiating from one site, a pin prick that had scabbed over.

But Maddie barely had time to look at it when Danny immediately jumped up and away from her, nearly tripping over his chair. He faced her, hands up and poised in defense.

"Whoa, Danny, calm down!" Maddie held up her own hands, palms facing him.

A beat. Danny slowed his breathing and lowered his hands. "Sorry," he muttered. "You just, um, startled me."

"I can see that," said Maddie with a smile, hoping to make him smile, too, his real smile, but his expression remained shaded. "What's that on the back of your neck? Did something sting you? Or bite you?"

Danny's hand went to the back of his neck. "Yes," he said quickly. "Not sure what. Must've happened last night while I was sleeping."

"Or while you were with Sam?"

Danny did not reply to this, did not even look at her as he shrugged.

Another question came to her, something that Pam had mentioned earlier that day. Should she ask it? How would he respond?

She just wanted something to hold onto, something to assure her that Danny was okay and not involved in anything dangerous.

"Does it hurt?"

"No."

"It just looks really red. Have you taken anything to relieve the inflammation, at least?"

He blinked and hesitated before replying with just the smallest stutter. "No. I mean, I don't need anything. Not for this." He turned away from her as he organized his homework and textbooks. "What time is it? I'm done with my homework for now, so—"

"Wait," Maddie stopped him. He was avoiding her again, and that was enough to alarm her. Danny paused and met her gaze with clear apprehension. She wanted to press him more, but she decided to change the subject instead. She leaned against the table, tried to appear casual. "So, is something going on between you and Sam?"

Danny swallowed. "Something like what?"

Maddie smirked. "Well, you could've just waited to see her at school. Why did you sneak out to see her?" She tried to keep her tone as non-accusatory as possible, tried to act as if she really did believe his story. "Are you two an item now?"

She hoped it was true. Danny, Danny, Danny, please give a satisfactory answer. Anything that would quell all this worry and not raise it further.

"We're—no," stammered Danny. "It was—um—"

"No? After all this time, you're still not dating?" Maddie stuck out her bottom lip and shrugged. "You've had a crush on her forever."

Blood rushed to Danny's face. "No! I mean, well, she doesn't—but no, anyway." He paused, didn't look at her as he seemed to consider something. "I had something I wanted to speak to her privately about. Something personal."

Maddie frowned. "Something that couldn't wait until you saw her at school the next day?"

Danny did not reply.

"Is it something I can help you with?"

"It's—" Danny shook his head. "No, it's not anything you need to be worried about, really. Just, you know." He shrugged and sheepishly smiled. "Just stupid dramatic teenage stuff, I guess."

Trying to throw her off, trying to downplay the situation. Maddie opted to not press the situation further. If she wanted him to trust her and open to up him, she had to ease into it, make him feel comfortable, allow him to tell her when he was ready.

"I really am sorry for sneaking out, though," said Danny. "It definitely could've waited. I just wasn't really thinking at the time."

Maddie was not about to give up on this, but she could let it go for the night, at least. "Well, I think you should get to bed. You look really tired."

"I am," agreed Danny. "I'll just straighten up here first."

Maddie moved to kiss his head like she so often did. He let her, but he did not seem to welcome it, seemed to be doing everything in his power to stay still and not shy away from the contact. He didn't look at her, didn't acknowledge it.

Upstairs, she wondered what to do next, what more research she could do in order to form a sensible hypothesis. His cell phone was in the drawer of her nightstand. She could go through it, look at the messages he had sent to Sam. Perhaps there'd be a mention of whatever he had snuck out to discuss with her. Or perhaps there'd be mention of something else, a request for an alibi to cover up what he was really doing—

No, she couldn't do that. She had nothing substantial to prove he was lying or concealing anything, just her instincts and his odd behavior. But that could be explained by lack of sleep or just discomfort from being caught and punished. She couldn't invade his privacy without good reason, had promised that she would never do that after her own mother read her diary when she was in high school.

But it was comforting to know she had that option if her other research tactics turned up nothing.

Light shone around the edges of Jazz's door. Maddie stood in front of it for some time. Jazz, ever-observant, often concerned for Danny's welfare and trying to explain his actions with what she had read in her psychology books. Perhaps Jazz could tell her something, could give her a hint if nothing else.

Maddie knocked on her door, asked if she could speak to her for a moment. Jazz obliged and allowed her in.

"Can you close the door?" Maddie moved to Jazz's bed and sat down.

"Sure." Jazz closed her door and moved her desk chair near the bed where Maddie was sitting. "What's up?"

"Well, first, I just want you to be aware of Danny's punishment." Maddie put her hands together rested her elbows on her thighs. "I really hate doing this to him, but—"

"Just part of being a parent, right?" Jazz shrugged and smiled.

Maddie nodded. Mature and understanding; that was her daughter. "Right. Anyway, he's basically grounded for a week. I'm going to need you to take him to and from school everyday. Make sure he doesn't go off and hang out with Sam and Tucker. Can you do that for me?"

"Of course," said Jazz. "But, you know, I'm sure Danny didn't sneak out just to be rebellious."

Jazz was trying to defend Danny. Interesting.

"I actually think the same thing," said Maddie. "I think he had some sort of personal reason for doing it. But that doesn't change the fact that he broke one of our biggest rules."

Jazz nodded emphatically.

"But by any chance, Jazz, do you know why he might've snuck out?"

Jazz blinked, let a small "oh" escape her. It seemed she wasn't expecting to be asked this. She looked caught.

Even more interesting.

"No," said Jazz with the slightest stutter. "I mean, he doesn't really tell me anything or confide in me. I don't really know anything about any personal issues he might be having."

A little more elaboration than she needed to give. Maddie took note of this.

"I don't really know anything about him either anymore," said Maddie with a sigh. "We used to be close, but…I don't know. Something's changed." She looked at Jazz seriously. "You sure you don't know anything about what might be going on in his life?"

"No," said Jazz, more firmly this time. "But he's probably okay. He's just trying to find himself, you know? Figuring out who he is, becoming independent. You know, I have a whole book on it, psychosocial stages of—"

"That's all right. Thanks, Jazz." Maddie studied her daughter. In the past, Jazz would eagerly and readily pick Danny apart, insisting that he needed more guidance as a growing teen. But she was now trying to dismiss his problems, saying that he was "okay" and that he'd be fine if she just let him be. Well, that was the implication, anyway.

Perhaps Jazz had just decided to stop being so meddlesome. Or perhaps she was trying to cover up something for Danny.

"Jazz." Maddie held her daughter's gaze. "Are you absolutely sure that you don't know anything about why Danny snuck out last night? Or anything else that he might be up to? Anything that I as his mother should know?"

Jazz leaned back just a little and solemnly shook her head. "No, Mom. Really. But, ah…is there something that makes you think he might be up to something?" She shrugged and spoke more rapidly. "I mean, maybe I could help you analyze any clues. Maybe."

Maddie thought for a moment, considered asking her just one more question. "There is one thing." Maddie paused, but she had already committed to telling Jazz. "I don't really know how to ask this, but have you seen Danny taking painkillers? Like more than usual?"

"Painkillers?" echoed Jazz carefully with a small shake of her head.

"Yes. I've just noticed that the supply in our medicine cabinet has been dwindling rapidly." Maddie decided to not tell Jazz what Pam had told her, about her supply of narcotic analgesics lowering each time he came over.

"No," said Jazz. "I mean, I don't think it's Danny. It's, um…"

Maddie curiously waited for her to continue.

Jazz sighed, tapped her fingertips together a couple times. "It's me. I'm the one who's been taking all the painkillers, sorry."

Maddie cocked her head. "You?"

Jazz pouted slightly as she nodded. "Yes. I've just been getting a lot of headaches lately. I think maybe it's my hair." She pulled her red hair over her shoulders, ran her fingers through it to the ends. "It's just so long, you know? Puts a lot of strain on my head, pulls at the nerves. So, yeah, I often take something to relieve it. Sorry, I didn't realize that I had been taking so much that you would notice."

Brow furrowed, Maddie tried to process this. "Really? Like, four to five times a week? Because that's how fast it's been decreasing."

Jazz faltered for a quick second. "Uh, yeah. Sorry. Really."

No. Maddie wasn't buying this. This was not convincing at all. "Well, Jazz, maybe you should get your hair cut."

Jazz clutched her hair in panic, her eyes wide. "What? No! I love my hair."

"But if you think it's giving you headaches—"

"They're not that bad, really!"

"They're bad enough that you feel the need to take something for it several times a week," said Maddie. "You do know that painkillers are toxic, right? You're not supposed to take them that often, and if you're having to take them that often, then it's a problem we need to resolve."

"No! They're not that bad. I'll stop taking them so often, okay? I promise." Jazz was still clutching her hair, hair that framed her very worried face.

Maddie did not say anything for a moment, then smiled and stood. "All right. But let me know if your headaches get worse, okay?"

Jazz nodded, and Maddie finally left her room, closing the door behind her. She leaned against it awhile in contemplation. The way Jazz so quickly made up a story, so quickly jumped to her brother's defense was very odd indeed. What was it that Danny was hiding that even Jazz felt the need to help him cover up?

Across the hall, Danny's door was closed. Maddie walked over and rapped on it with her knuckles a couple times. Danny opened the door and looked at her tiredly.

"Hey," said Maddie as gently as she could. "Just, ah, remember to keep your door open when you go to bed, okay?"

Danny's tired gaze hardened. "I was just changing," he snapped, indicating the pale night shirt and pants he was now wearing. "Or am I supposed to leave my door open when I do that, too?"

"Danny, watch your tone," said Maddie, raising her voice slightly. "I was just reminding you."

"I'm not stupid. I didn't forget."

"Danny!" Maddie put a hand to her head, calmed herself. "All right. Just…good night." She started to walk away.

"Wait, Mom."

Maddie turned back to see Danny looking contrite. His eyes were shut, his hands were clenched. He relaxed and met her gaze.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "It's just been a long day."

Maddie smiled sadly. She longed to pull him into a hug, longed to beg him to tell her what was going on with him, tell her how she could help him.

He walked past her and entered the bathroom nearby. Maddie sighed. She had to talk to him about this at some point. It would likely be an uncomfortable conversation, but it was her own fault for letting this go on for so long. She had known for some time that he seemed to be struggling with something, had gotten multiple e-mails from his teachers about his poor performance in school, but she had been so caught up with her research and ghost-related inventions that she had brushed it aside, had somehow convinced herself that he was fine, fine, perfectly fine.

Sleep. She yawned and rubbed her eyes. All of this worry and concern was far more taxing than she had realized. Perhaps she'd be able to make more sense of everything tomorrow after giving her ever-working mind a rest.

But there was one thing she wanted to do first. She couldn't stop him from buying his own, but at the very least, she was no longer going to keep them easily accessible.

After a quick trip to the basement for some tools, she headed to the kitchen and opened the medicine cabinet. She observed the analgesics, noted their levels, and then installed a lock, a lock to which only she would have the key.


	6. Chapter 6

Danny leaned out his open window, his arms resting on the sill. He surveyed the neighborhood, gazed at the distant lights of the part of the city that was still awake.

And why was he still awake? He had been so exhausted earlier, had wanted so desperately to fall and never get up again, but now with his lights off and in the dying hours of the night, his mind was tired but too troubled to let him go just yet.

The town seemed quiet and undisturbed so far, but he knew very well how quickly that could change.

"Danny?" a voice whispered from his doorway.

Danny turned to see his sister's darkened silhouette.

"Are you going out tonight?"

Danny leaned back against his windowsill, tilted his head back so that the night wind set the strands of his thick hair fluttering. "No."

Jazz's face could not be seen very well in this light. Her head moved slightly. "You're not worried about the ghosts?"

Danny shrugged. "It's not like I've never taken a night off before. Besides, Mayor Vlad has his own anti-ghost measures in place." He paused. "I can't risk Mom seeing that I'm not in my room."

"Does that mean you're never going to go out again?"

Danny turned just his head to look back at the town. "I can't do that. They need me." He imagined the sleeping townspeople, strangers and classmates, shoppers he passed at the mall, faces he recognized but didn't have names to go with them. So many who slept soundly each night never knowing what he had to do to ensure that they could keep sleeping soundly. "I'm just going to have to figure something out, some way to make Mom think I'm still in my room. Maybe use the Fenton Ghost Catcher." He chuckled. "Or if I could just master duplicating myself."

"But Danny, you said yourself that Vlad has anti-ghost measures in place."

Danny looked curiously at Jazz.

"It's just…you're a  _kid_ , and what you do isn't safe. And it seems to be taking a toll on you, emotionally and physically."

Danny was not sure where this was coming from, where she was headed with it.

"You were almost killed last night—"

"Stop," said Danny sharply. "I've been almost killed many times."

"That's my point." Jazz walked up to him, the moonlight from the window illuminating her concerned expression. "And it's going to keep happening, and one of these times might not be 'almost.'"

"What are you suggesting? That I stop fighting off the ghosts?"

"Maybe."

Danny made no reply.

"You know…you've never really told me  _why_  you feel like you have to stop all these ghosts and protect everyone."

"If I don't, no one else will. I stand a better chance, am able to take ectoplasmic shocks better—"

"No, Danny.  _Why_? Why do you really do this?" Jazz's voice was trembling slightly. "Why do you keep doing this when you are so badly injured on a regular basis, often in so much pain that you have to take a maximum dose of painkillers, when you repeatedly come close to death, when no one even appreciates what you go through to keep them safe?"

Danny couldn't meet Jazz's gaze, had to turn away, had to lean out the window to give him an easy way to avoid her.

How could he possibly explain it to her? Not even Tucker or Sam had asked him this so pointedly before. At first, he had convinced even himself that he was just doing it to make good use of his powers, to take responsibility for what he had done when he turned on his parents' portal and subsequently made their town a magnet for ghosts.

But the more he fought with the ghosts, the more he realized that there was more to it, that there was an obsession embedded in his ghostly molecules that compelled him to keep fighting no matter how much it physically hurt him. He had kept it to himself, had concealed it under layers and layers of heroic reasoning and noble excuses. He couldn't say the truth, couldn't say that it was something far more selfish than that, couldn't say that the guilt and shame from not doing whatever he could to protect the townspeople from the infestation he himself had inflicted on them would consume him.

He kept hoping there would be an end to it. Each time he released ghosts back into their own realm, he wanted to cry and beg them to stay, stay, please don't return this time. I don't want to keep doing this. Don't you see what this is doing to me?

He couldn't tell her. He couldn't tell anyone. They would only worry about him, and he was  _so_  sick of everyone worrying about him.

"Danny?"

Danny turned back with a plastered smile. "Jazz, really, I do it because I'm all this town has got. Vlad's anti-ghost measures could never measure up to my powers. You know that."

In the pale light streaming in through the window, Danny could see the smallest shine of tears in Jazz's eyes.

No, Jazz, stop—

What was he doing wrong? What had he done to make her cry?

"Please don't," said Danny, standing up straight. "I promise I'm fine."

Jazz nodded and headed toward the door. She turned back, her hand on his doorframe. "If there's anything in here you don't want Mom to find, you should hide it tonight."

Danny frowned.

"There's a good chance she'll be searching your room tomorrow," explained Jazz. "But I'll tell you more in the morning, okay? You should get some sleep."

Once again alone in his room, Danny turned to look at the wall behind which he had hidden his ghost-related contraband, stolen tools and weapons from his parents' lab and artifacts from the Ghost Zone that he certainly didn't want anyone to ever find, things that anyone else would have to tear out the wall to get to. No, those things were perfectly safe. He could hide some other things he'd be embarrassed to have his mother find, magazines and photos that would make her blush, but perhaps that would be too suspicious. Maybe it'd be better to let her find those things to keep his real secrets safe.

So his room was okay…

But she had his cell phone.

Easy. He was sure she was keeping it in the drawer of her nightstand since that was typically where she kept things she took from either him or Jazz. He would just invisibly phase through and grab it, delete the app that he had been using to secretly communicate with Sam, Tucker, and Jazz, and then replace it. Not a problem. Why had he been so concerned earlier? Sure, his ghost powers often landed him in trouble, but they could just as easily get him out of it.

Invisible, Danny walked into his parents' room and paused as he observed his parents in their bed. Their breathing patterns were heavy and deep, indicative of tranquil sleep. Danny phased his arm through Maddie's bedside table and wrapped his fingers around the familiar shape of his phone, pulled it up and turned it invisible. He took it out into the hall so that its light would not disturb his sleeping mother.

Relief. Finally.

_4304_

Nothing. The phone remained locked.

He was probably just tired, had probably hit the wrong number. He tried again, more carefully.

_4-3-0-4_

Still locked.

Catching breath.

_4\. 3. 0. 4._

_4! 3! 0! 4!_

_Four! Three! Zero! Four!_

_FOUR! THREE! ZERO! FOUR!_

Danny stared numbly at the screen which informed him that his phone was now disabled, try again in one minute.

She had changed his passcode. She had anticipated this exact situation. She really didn't trust him? Really had so little faith in him to follow her stupid rules that she would lock him out like this?

Oh, but it was exactly what he had done. Such cruel irony. And he could never mention it to her, not without her knowing that he had taken it.

He gripped his phone and held it to his head, gritted his teeth and seethed.

Calm down, calm down…

His mother was still not one to invade his privacy, and as long as he gave her no reason to believe that he would be hiding anything in his phone from her, she wouldn't try to find anything. He just had to keep it together, had to convince her that he was cool and collected and definitely  _not_  lying about anything—

Right. Because he was doing  _such_  a good job of that so far. That morning, after dinner, when she found him asleep by his computer, when she reminded him to keep his door open—

Well done, well done, you stupid—

Danny stopped these thoughts. Berating himself wasn't going to help, would only make him more agitated.

Take it one step at a time. First, he had to put the phone back. Invisibly, intangibly, no problem.

All right. Should he do something about the files on his computer? They were hidden, password-protected, and further encrypted, but if their existence was somehow discovered, he'd be forced to explain them, asked to open them, and no amount of refusal would save him from the ruthless scrutiny.

He couldn't delete them, not after all of the time he put into compiling them, the hours he spent writing up log entries of important ghost encounters, the grief he felt when he wrote about what all of this was doing to him on a personal and emotional level, the pained secrets he kept from even Sam and Tucker.

He hadn't written about what happened to him the night before, what she had said to him, what she had done to him. If he didn't write it, then it would be as if it never happened, and with time, he could surely forget it.

Downstairs, he approached his computer. Tucker and Sam both had their own copies of the ghost files they had all worked hard to put together. He could delete them now and restore them later. He just couldn't risk her finding them no matter how well-hidden they were. He would feel so much better if they were just completely gone.

Denied access. His computer was locked with a new password.

No, no, no—

Why oh why did she have to be  _so_ right not to trust him?

His pulse quickened, his head throbbed. He breathed deeply, tried to talk himself back down.

She hadn't locked him out of his phone and computer because she wanted to stop him from hiding or deleting anything. She just wanted to be sure he would have no way to use them, no way to rebel and get around the constraints of his punishment. As with his phone, as long as he gave her no reason to think he was hiding anything in his computer, she wouldn't look through it.

And besides, she would unlock it for him tomorrow so he could do his homework. He could just delete them then.

It would be fine.

He would be fine.

He was already fine.

But his head was aching with all of this worry, his injection sites still sore. She had already seen the one on his neck, so no need to hide that anymore. Although the redness had subsided significantly, so significantly that it really did look more like a bite than anything else, he wanted to reduce it even further. Maybe one more dose of ibuprofen would do it, would also alleviate the pain in his head so that he could sleep.

(in his head? imagined or real?)

This would be his last dose for a while. He knew it wasn't safe to take so much so often, but a little more wouldn't hurt.

In the kitchen, he opened the medicine cabinet—

No, he didn't open it. Danny blinked in confusion at the lock that had been installed. The realization that he had been locked out of yet another thing was sinking deep, dragging down his breaths and jolting his heart.

What did this mean? What did she know?

He couldn't ask about this either, not without her asking why he was trying to get into it in the middle of the night—

Well, wait, that wasn't so strange, right? Wasn't that what this cabinet was for anyway?

But it was locked now, and she wouldn't have locked it if she wasn't trying to keep someone out—

—that someone obviously being  _him_. He recalled how she had asked him about taking something for the sore area on the back of his neck. The way he answered must have tipped her off, or perhaps she already knew which was why she asked in the first place.

But she had never seemed to notice before, had never mentioned it to him. Why all of a sudden? No, rather, why when she was already so suspicious of what he had been doing the night before? Suspicious because oh  _sure_  he could fight off ghost after ghost after innumerable ghost but for some reason was completely incapable of putting on a stupid  _affectation_  that would convince her. Why did this have to happen all at once? He couldn't do this, couldn't handle all of this at the same time—

No, he was fine. He _could_  handle this.

He would tell himself that over and over and over until it was finally true.

The lock wasn't actually a problem. He could easily phase through. He held his arm before it, willed it to go intangible.

Paused.

Shook.

If he did this and she noticed—

Would she notice—?

She had so meticulously covered all of the other bases. He had definitely not inherited his intelligence from her. She was certainly superior in that regard—

—and yet she couldn't see that he was so obviously the ghost she had been lusting after—

—she would definitely notice. He knew her, knew that she made careful observations when she was investigating.

And right now, she was investigating  _him._

He pulled his arm back with a frustrated groan. So much power and yet no power at all.

All right. Okay. He'd just have to buy his own from now on. After all, there were no restrictions barring minors from buying over-the-counter painkillers.

But that didn't solve his problem right now.

Back in his room, he closed the door out of habit but then practically threw it open again when he remembered that he was supposed to leave it open so that she could easily check to make sure he was still in his room, because she felt he couldn't be trusted otherwise.

His head was hurting even more now. (or he only thought that? no, no, pain this bad had to be real) He looked again at the wall with so much hidden behind it including a sizable collection of hydrocodone that he had been accumulating with Sam's help. It had started out simply enough. He had been complaining of pain that prevented him from sleeping and moving very well, and Sam graciously stole just one pill for him from her parents' supply.

"I can get you more if you ever need it," she had told him, "but I can only sneak you one at a time."

"What exactly is this?" he asked, looking the small pill over curiously.

"It's a strong painkiller, so strong that it can lead to addiction. It's the kind of medication you're required to show ID to pick up at the pharmacy, the kind that doctors can't even prescribe for their own families."

That powerful?

"Why do your parents have this?"

"Various surgeries and procedures. But honestly, all rich people have their own supply of opioids." She looked at him sternly. "I'm only giving you this because I know that you go through a lot, but you should only take this when you're in so much pain that you can't sleep. Promise me, Danny."

"I promise."

Since then, she had given him just one pill at a time with the instruction to only take them in extreme cases.

Was this extreme?

He moved to the wall, placed a tangible hand against it. All he had to do was reach through.

He sharply turned away and climbed under the covers on his bed. He was stronger than that. This pain wasn't bad enough to warrant a narcotic.

He'd feel better in the morning after getting sufficient sleep. It would all be better in the morning. He just had to relax and stop thinking, let his troubled mind shut off and drift away.

On his back. The bruise on the back of his head still hurt too much, not to mention it seemed difficult to breathe in this position. He turned over, put his arm under his head.

Hard to breathe in this position, too.

More shifting, lifting his head, turning his pillow over.

Why couldn't he get comfortable?

And why couldn't he—

BREATHE

He sat up, clutched his sheets, kept his head down and eyes closed. He filled his lungs, pulled in air, pulled in even more air, let it out slowly.

His airway was fine, not blocked. He could breathe just fine. Why was he feeling as if he couldn't?

He lay back down and stayed still, focused on drawing in more air. But despite the large volume he was putting into his lungs, he was still struggling, gasping for more as soon as he let it out.

He tried to think about other things. Jumping sheep. Music. He sang lyrics in his head, focused on their words.

Outlines of the cleanest plastic wrap become the doorways of perception leading all deceptions home, but—

BREATHE

It wasn't that he couldn't breathe. It was just that he had to  _think_  to breathe. He had to manually pull in oxygen; his mind was so focused on his troubles that it had stopped transmitting the command to breathe automatically.

No, that was ridiculous. He just had to stop thinking about this so much—

But if he stopped thinking, he'd never breathe again—

Every breath felt like it could be his last.

His heart was palpitating, echoing in his ears, thrusting blood in sinuous waves to his arteries that were beating against his sheets. He was sickeningly aware of his physiology, all of its nauseating pulses and throbs and vibrations struggling to keep him alive—

Struggling to keep him alive? Was he dying?

Dropping into a greying lightness that filled his head, an eclipsing heaviness that filled his chest, a prickling compression that traveled through his veins and tightened them.

Was he losing his  _mind_?

He shot up and gasped, pulled in a knee and rested his arm and head on it. What was going on? Why was he feeling like this?

His pillow and mattress were far too soft and pliable, closely surrounding him and making breathing even more difficult as he suffocated in them. He threw his blanket off of him and fell to the floor beside the bed, lay on his back with one knee up and his hands in his hair.

Better…

He could definitely breathe more easily on this firm surface.

Shaking, trembling, he focused only on his breathing. No words. No song lyrics. No memories. Air in, air out. Ebbing and flowing, pulling in the tide and pushing it back out…

Pushing him down.

Danny jolted, sat up, backed away from whatever had touched his shoulder.

Whatever, no,  _who_ ever—

 _Her_.

She was saying something. What? Didn't matter. All he could hear was the whir of her loaded gun aimed at his head.

"Danny."

Standing over him.

"You weren't in your bed, so I—"

Kneeling down.

"Danny?"

Reaching for him.

He jumped up.

"Danny!"

Against a wall, her hands were gripping his wrists, holding them up so that he couldn't get away. She had him. He was hers.

"Danny." She was crying. "Danny, what's wrong? Tell me what's wrong."

Her words finally reached him. The air stilled and quieted. Danny locked eyes with her in motionless silence.

"Danny, how can I help you? Please tell me." Maddie begged him, desperately shook him.

He took his arms out of her grasp. "Sorry. Bad dream. You just startled me."

Maddie's eyes glimmered in the light shining through the cracks in his blinds. "Why were you on the floor?"

"I couldn't get comfortable on my bed." Not a lie.

Her lips were quivering. "We have to talk. Now."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"There is, and you're going to talk to me about it."

He glared at her. Just what made her think she could make him do anything? "No," he said simply but not unkindly.

Maddie glared back at him. "Danny, this has to stop."

"What has to stop?"

"You know what I'm talking about."

She reached for his arm. Danny pulled back and walked around her so that he was no longer trapped against a wall.

"No," he said again, more firmly.

"I'm not giving you a choice, Danny."

Oh, really? Was that so? And just how far would she go to make him talk? Put him under duress, belt him down to her operating table and tear into him until he confessed everything, admitted to all of the terrible crimes she had already convicted him of?

No matter what, she couldn't make him talk, and he intended to hold onto what little power he had as her son if he could not use his power as her desired ghost boy.

"Talk to me, Danny."

Danny shook his head.

She was approaching him again. Danny held out his hands to stop her. "Don't. Just go, please."

"Why?" demanded Maddie. "Why do you not want to talk to me?"

"I just can't right now. Please, please just go."

"Why not? Why can't you talk now?"

Endless questions. Relentless prying. Why not now, she wanted to know? Because all he could hear was her threatening his life, telling him he wasn't worth keeping alive, accusing him of being an affliction on the town that needed to be erased. According to her, there was only one way he could be of benefit to anyone, of benefit to her: constrained and confined to an existence of miserable experimentation and unremitting torment.

"Mom, please." Danny shut his eyes, refused to look at her as he placed his hands on his dresser and leaned against it with his head down. "Please, please just believe me for once. I can't talk now."

For so long, too long, an eternity, she stood there. Danny could sense her boring into him, but he didn't dare look back at her.

He just wanted her to  _go_.

He heard her walk out his door. Danny leaned against his dresser for some time before turning and raising his eyes. He could see Jazz's unmistakable shadow in his doorway, her long tresses catching the fragments of moonlight streaming in.

 _What do I do now?_ he soundlessly asked her.

In response, she disappeared into the darkness of the hallway.


	7. Chapter 7

Out of bed, outside his door, cold sunlight lighting the hall.

Minutes and minutes.

She could see him through his door which was of course open, just as it was supposed to be, just as she had told him to keep it. Under his covers, on his side, his face hidden from her.

Most importantly, still there.

Usually, she would wake him, tell him to get ready for school and come down for breakfast when he was finished. Usually.

"Mom?" Jazz came out of her room dressed in a nightgown and slippers, her hair tangled and cowlicked.

Maddie turned to her with a smile. "If you happen to see Danny get up, can you tell him he can come down for breakfast if he wants?"

Jazz creased her brow, tilted her head. "Yeah, sure."

"But don't bother him if he doesn't get up," said Maddie. "Just let him sleep."

Jazz stumbled over her reply. "Okay."

Downstairs, Maddie wondered what she should make. French toast? She knew he liked French toast. But would he even come down? Would he even eat any of it? He didn't eat much at breakfast the morning before, didn't eat much at dinner. She had wanted so much to just chalk it up to him simply being in a poor mood after being scolded and lectured.

After last night, though—

"Morning!" Jack greeted her enthusiastically. He pulled her close and kissed her deeply. Maddie allowed him to kiss her but did not return it. He bounced to a seat at the table and turned on the morning news on their kitchen television.

Maddie watched her husband for a moment. He had no idea what had happened last night. The heaviest sleeper she knew, the episode with Danny did not wake him at all.

She knew she had to tell him, but would he just dismiss it? Or would he blame her for bothering their son in the middle of the night? She had only wanted to check that he had not left again, wanted to put her mind at ease. She had no idea  _that_  would happen.

 _That_  being…

She stopped thinking and tried to focus only on cooking. For now, turn it off, get breakfast on the table.

Jazz entered the kitchen with a warm greeting. Maddie returned the greeting, stopped herself from asking about Danny. If he was going to come, he would come.

Maddie set a plate of French toast down on the table. Jack eagerly helped himself.

"Where's Danny?" he asked cheerfully. "He loves French toast."

Maddie shrugged and forced a smile. "I'm sure he'll come down if he wants to."

Jack halted mid-bite, looked at her warily. "If he wants to?"

Maddie only nodded as she took her own seat.

No one spoke for several moments.

"Maddie?" asked Jack. "Something going on with Danny?"

Jazz was looking down and eating quietly. Maddie met Jack's gaze and said in a hushed voice, "I'll tell you when Jazz leaves for school, okay?"

"When Jazz leaves?" Jack looked at their daughter. "Any reason you didn't include Danny in that sentence?"

Maddie was about to say more when their son appeared in the entryway. Pale and looking as if he could fall over, but showered and fully dressed.

Maddie immediately stood. "Danny."

Danny raised his eyes. "Hey," he mumbled tiredly.

"Hey, Danny!" Jack excitedly held up his plate. "French toast! Come grab some."

Maddie watched Danny closely, watched his listless eyes close as he shook his head.

"I'm just gonna buy something at school," said Danny. "Something light. Maybe yogurt."

Maddie opened the fridge. "Oh, well, I think we have some here—"

"No, that's okay. Mom."

Maddie looked back at him in silence.

"Jazz, I'll be waiting in the living room." Danny left the kitchen, disappeared from sight.

Maddie stared after him, tears pricking at her eyes. Trying to keep him in sight, how could she get him to stay? How could she keep him from going too far?

She couldn't lose him. She had to bring him back.

Jack nudged her, spoke in almost a whisper. "Okay, seriously, what's going on with Danny?"

"I told you: I'll explain later when Jazz leaves."

"I'm going now," said Jazz quickly after shoveling a final forkful into her mouth. Maddie followed her out of the kitchen.

"Danny, wait," said Maddie, stopping him from joining Jazz as she headed to the front door.

Both teenagers paused as they waited for further instruction.

"Jazz, go ahead and go to school," said Maddie.

Jazz glanced at Danny, then at Maddie again. She did not move. "But I thought I was supposed to—?"

Maddie spoke to Danny but did not even try to touch him. "Danny, I want you to stay home from school today."

Danny's eyes widened. Surprise? Panic? Something else? "Why?"

"We need to talk." Maddie looked at him kindly. Jack entered the living room with a perplexed frown.

"I can't skip school. I've got homework to turn in, a quiz in history."

He was grasping for an excuse. Why oh why did he not want to talk to her? What was he keeping from her?

"It'll be fine," Maddie assured him. "I'll ask your teachers to excuse you."

Anxious eyes, trembling voice. "No, please. Please let me go to school."

There was nothing stopping him from just walking out the door. She was no longer stronger than him, hadn't been for some time, certainly couldn't physically force him to stay even if she wanted to.

And yet, he was begging her permission to go.

Maddie bowed her head, bit her lip, held back her tears. "Okay."

She didn't look up at him again as he wordlessly left and walked out the front door with Jazz. The door shut, and Maddie let her tears fall.

Jack rubbed her back. "Maddie," he said hesitantly, "what's going on?"

Maddie turned wet eyes to him.

-DP-

Jazz wanted to say something to him. Danny could feel it as he sat in the passenger seat of her car.

"What's on your mind?" he finally asked her.

"I think I should be asking you that," said Jazz softly.

Danny crossed his arms and closed his eyes. "I don't know what's on my mind anymore," he said in a shaky whisper. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

How could he have let this happen? How could he have let this go so far? What could he do to fix it? Why couldn't he get out of his own way and stop making things worse already?

And why wasn't this headache going away?

"There's nothing wrong with you," said Jazz. "What you're experiencing is normal."

Danny groaned.

"I know you don't want to hear it, but I really wish you would see just how much this has affected you." Jazz paused. "Especially after what happened last night."

Last night—

The night before that—

Two nights in a row, two nights she had ambushed him, two nights he wanted to forget about.

But he wasn't about to talk about this, not with Jazz who would only insist on scrutinizing every angle of it and giving him advice. His eyes fell on her glove compartment, the pain in his head sharpening as if on cue. He reached toward it. "Jazz, do you mind if I take some of your ibuprofen?"

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that."

Danny pulled his hand back at the urgency of her tone.

Jazz stared straight ahead. "Mom knows that you've been taking a lot of painkillers lately."

Danny was not surprised to hear this. After all, she had locked the medicine cabinet. But he  _was_  surprised that Jazz said this as if she had firsthand knowledge. "Did she tell you that?"

"Yes," admitted Jazz. "I tried telling her it was me, but I'm pretty sure she didn't buy it." She glanced at him. "But honestly, I had no idea that you've been taking so much."

"Well, I mean, just because I always beat the ghosts I fight doesn't mean I don't get beat up myself."

"I know, but you see what I was talking about last night? This isn't good for you. You shouldn't be taking so many painkillers, Danny. Do you have any idea what an overdose can do to you?"

"I'm careful. I didn't even take any last night."

"Only because you couldn't, right?"

Danny did not reply.

"Right? I saw the lock on the cabinet this morning."

"I could've phased through it."

"But you didn't because you knew Mom would notice. And the fact that you're not surprised means you already knew about the lock which means you tried to get into it last night."

Danny clenched his jaw, inhaled deeply and deliberately. As always, his genius sister just had to know everything, didn't she? As always, she was the smart one, and he was nothing but a damaged moron.

"Are you really in that much pain all the time?"

"I don't want to talk about this."

"Danny, just tell me, are you thinking about buying your own?"

"And just when would I buy my own, Jazz? I'm pretty much under house arrest."

"You're avoiding the question."

"Jazz, drop it."

"Danny, you can't just—"

"Yes, okay?" snapped Danny. "Yes, because I'm in pain  _all the time._  What do you expect considering what I do? Are you seriously going to tell me that I have to just deal with the pain?"

"No, but you don't have to keep fighting, you know."

"So because it's my choice to fight, I'm not allowed to take anything for it?"

"Danny, stop twisting my words."

"Then  _you_  stop—" Danny cut himself off, breathed. His head was throbbing now, pushing behind his eyes. "I just really don't need this right now," he said with a hushed tremor.

Silence, agonizing and so heavy that it crushed his skull even more. In the student parking lot at last, Jazz turned to him, and Danny met her gaze.

"Danny, don't you think…I mean, maybe it's time you told her."

Hesitation. "I can't do that." The nightmares ran through his mind, everything he had seen his mother do to other ghosts, everything that he knew she wanted to do to Phantom, to him.

"It'll be okay." Jazz put a hand on his shoulder. "She loves you, Danny. And she's so worried about you."

He had seen her accept him before in an alternate timeline, remembered how she so warmly embraced his secret. But he had never seen beyond that initial moment of revelation, had no idea if she would've still tried to see what exactly he was later.

And now, after what had happened, he was more afraid than ever to find out for sure.

"Jazz." Danny put his hand over hers on his shoulder. "Please promise me that you won't make this decision for me. Please let me be the one to tell her."

Jazz lifted her armrest and leaned over the gear lever of her car, wrapped her arms around him. Danny made no movement himself, only took in the soothing contact of her embrace.

He glanced at her glove compartment. Glanced away.

At lunch, Danny sat with Tucker and Sam. Just like always. Just as usual.

No, not usual at all. Such distance despite being right next to them. Void and not at all present.

"Danny, you gonna eat that?" asked Tucker, pointing to the bag of chips that had come with his lunch.

Danny pushed the entirety of his uneaten meal toward Tucker. "You can have it all."

"Have you eaten at all today?" asked Sam with concern.

"I had a ton of French toast this morning." Why was he lying? Danny heard his words but could not stop them. It didn't even sound like his voice.

"My parents are making me wash all of our windows, inside and out. Mirrors, too," Sam was suddenly saying. "It's gonna take me all day."

Danny blinked, tried to focus. "Oh, you mean for…?"

"Yup." Sam smiled nonchalantly. "I'm also supposed to never hang out with you again, but do you have any idea how many times they've tried to tell me that? I told them it's not happening this time either."

How many times  _had_  they told her that?

"Your parents really don't like me, do they?" Danny spoke quietly, kept his eyes downcast.

Sam's mouth hung open for a moment in stunned silence. She frantically shook her head. "No, they like you just fine. Sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"It's okay." Danny shrugged. "I'm just really sorry that you're being punished for something that you didn't even do." Arms on the table, hands clasped and shaking. "I shouldn't have done that to you."

"We're all in this together, Danny," said Sam gently. "Your trouble is ours, too."

Danny didn't say anything, overwhelmed by the unwavering loyalty of his friends. They seemed genuinely willing and even happy to help him with everything pertaining to his ghostly identity, but it pained him all the same that they so often had to hurt right along with him.

The guilt he felt that they were tangled up in this, following him as he was pulled in deeper and deeper, offshoots from the chains forged primarily for him winding and tightening around them as well. How long until they were just as trapped as he was?

Danny looked up at Sam. Such kindness, such sincerity, even after the way he had spoken to her just the day before. "Sam, thank you for everything. You really saved me yesterday when you told your mom that you tricked your security system."

"Well, it just sucks because now they're having a far more sophisticated one installed. We won't be able to use that excuse ever again."

"I'm still surprised that they didn't already have a more sophisticated one," said Tucker. "What's the point of having all that money if you don't spend it on the best technology?"

Sam and Tucker started joking and laughing. Silly asides, humorous anecdotes. But Danny couldn't laugh, could barely smile. Nothing was amusing to him. Nothing was enjoyable.

He could not even begin to explain the profundity of his emptiness.

What was it that used to fill this emptiness? What had he lost? What had been taken from him?

What had  _she_  taken from him?

It had only been a couple days, but he already could not remember, was so far removed that he could not recall what it was like to not feel this way.

And what had he done to deserve this? Was this a consequence he just had to accept for lying to his mother for so long, for carelessly entering her ghost portal when he knew he wasn't supposed to, for subjecting the people of his town to never-ending hauntings?

But he was already trying so hard to make up for that. He couldn't take back what he had done, could only try to fix it no matter how futile it seemed as the ghosts kept inexhaustibly returning.

And why couldn't she just see that? Why did she want to hurt him so much when he was just trying to make restitution for his mistake?

_I can only assume you're behind it all._

_I should just shoot you now, end your problematic existence._

_You are not worth any more trouble._

Nonono he wasn't supposed to think about that was supposed to IGNORE

Because he was FINE and this was NOT a big deal and he was most certainly NOT—

_don't say it_

What happened last night, unable to breathe and gripped by such painful paranoia that it was almost surreal.

After that, could he really keep insisting that he was not—

_DON'T_

—¿pǝzıʇɐɯnɐɹʇ—

"Danny?"

He looked up to see Sam and Tucker gravely studying him.

"You okay?"

Simple question.

But still the hardest question he had ever had to answer.

He hugged his arms against him, hung his head, shut his eyes.

"No."

He couldn't deny it any longer, couldn't lie to even himself anymore.

"I'm not okay."

Shuddering, shivering. His friends were upon him instantly, on either side of him and reassuring him with words he could not understand.

He had to do something about this.

Because this wasn't fair and this wasn't right and he couldn't keep going on like this.

He had been almost killed. She had almost killed him. And not only was she punishing him for it, but he was letting her punish him for it.

If he didn't refill this emptiness, failed to reclaim this crucial part of him that had been stolen, then it would only be a matter of time until there was nothing of him left.

In Jazz's car at the end of the day, Danny didn't tell her about the conversation he had had with Sam and Tucker, didn't tell her what he had at last admitted to himself, didn't tell her that he had for once decided to take her advice.

He definitely didn't tell her that he had secretly phased into the glove compartment of her car during one of the passing periods, didn't tell her that he was sorry but that he only did it because there was no way he could do this with a headache that wasn't going away on its own.

Standing before the front door of their house, mentally readying himself because he knew he had to do it but dear  _God_  he was scared and he didn't actually want to but it was the only way and the longer he waited the worse this would get the worse he would get the worse his pain would get and she would understand she would see she would get it and would not try to hurt him would not try to kill him not this time oh God please don't kill him please just see that he was trying his best and that he was sorry for lying to her for so long and please just be okay let this be okay let him be okay again.

Breathe.

Go.

He opened the front door and stepped inside, fully expecting her to be waiting for him on the living room couch.

He stood alone in the empty room, puzzled.

Jazz joined him, also seemingly confused. "Mom? Dad?" she called out.

"We're in the basement," Maddie called from the lower level, her voice echoing through the open door. "How was school?"

"Fine," answered Jazz.

Maddie appeared at the top of the basement stairs, her jumpsuit hood up, her goggles on top of her head. "Do you have any plans tonight, Jazz? I mean, since it's Friday?"

Jazz furrowed her brow. "Um, no."

Maddie smiled. "Good, because we're going out to eat tonight." Her gaze fell on Danny. "So, Danny, if you have any homework, you should try to finish as much as possible right now, okay?"

Danny stared at her. He had been gearing up for hours to finally talk to her, and now she didn't want to?

She was gone, out of sight and back in the basement. Danny stood still for some time.

"Danny?"

He looked at his sister.

"Um…well…do you need any help with your homework?" She gave a small shrug of her shoulders.

"No," said Danny quietly. He looked back at the door leading to the basement. Should he go and initiate the talk himself? Did she not want to talk anymore? Or was this some sort of parenting ploy?

Something new was settling in him, an eerie apprehension that fluttered with uneven rhythm.

As he did his homework, he could hear the sounds of tools, the hums of machinery. His parents seemed to be hard at work as always. It was strange how normal it sounded. It should've been comforting, but his hands would not stop shaking as he typed and wrote and tried very hard to complete his own work.

For dinner, they went to one of his favorite restaurants, and Maddie was sitting as far from him as she possibly could've been. Jokes and stories, no restrictions on what they could order. Danny tried to clear his plate, tried to force everything down despite how bland it all tasted and how heavy it felt in his stomach.

Maddie caught his eye. Danny shrank away without thinking, looked down and avoided her. He realized what he had done and tried to look up again, but her attention was now on Jack.

The way she made him feel now, how even a look from her was enough to make him wince.

He hated this.

Back home, they all watched a movie together on the couch. Maddie was now seated next to Danny. In the blue light cast by their big screen, he could see her hand moving closer to him, just a little at a time.

Why had she decided to not try to talk to him tonight? What was going on in her head?

Her fingers graced his thigh. Arms crossed, Danny held his breath and put all of his effort into letting her touch him. He wanted to get up and run away, but he stayed, allowed her to affectionately squeeze his knee.

Danny turned his head to look at her. She smiled at him, raised her hand to stroke his hair. He mentally recoiled but physically forced himself to let her. He never wanted her to touch his hair again.

But he had always loved the way she would run her fingers through his hair, the way her nails so blissfully scratched at his scalp. Or the way she would rub his back, massage away his tension. Or the way she would hug him and let him know she was proud of him despite his many screw-ups.

She was one of the few people he had always felt safe with before.

As he looked at her now, he could feel pressure building behind his eyes and begging to spill out.

She put a hand on the far side of his face and pulled him close to her, kissed the top of his head. Danny shut his eyes. This gentle contact felt painful. Why did this hurt so much?

Every look from her reminded him of what he knew she wanted to do to him.

Every touch from her reminded him of just how much she hurt him.

But how would she feel if she knew? Could he really be so selfish to inflict that knowledge on her?

Because even after all that had happened, he still loved her.

He already suffered so much for the sake of the town. Perhaps he should just continue suffering for her sake, too.


	8. The disparager

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I interrupt this fic to give you the initial incident written entirely from Maddie's perspective.

Pulled out of a dream, Maddie opened her eyes to look at the time on her bedside clock.

Midnight.

She turned over on her back and tried to drift back into sleep, tried to slip back into her dream, a dream that had been so pleasant, a dream she so hoped would come true someday.

Tossing and turning. The minutes moved forward, and Maddie could not reclaim sleep. Her throat felt dry, her lips cracked. Water, lip balm, then back to bed.

Jack did not stir at all as she climbed off the bed and out of their bedroom. Down the hall, she walked by the rooms of her children. She paused for just a moment between the doors, her daughter's on one side, her son's on the other.

She glanced at Jazz's door, lingered longer on Danny's.

Down the stairs, a glass of water, back up and right at his door again. Maddie stood before it with a pensive frown. She didn't need to worry about Jazz, but Danny…

His teachers had been sending her concerned e-mails. Danny's often late to class. Danny often turns in his assignments late. Danny often seems tired. Danny's often inattentive. Danny, Danny, Danny, what is wrong with Danny, Mrs. Fenton? Can you please fix him already? Sorry, but this is not in our job description.

There was nothing wrong with him. He didn't get the best grades, certainly not as good as his sister's, but he was doing decently well, and he was trying his best. Maddie couldn't possibly hold him to the same expectations as she did her daughter. He excelled in other areas, and he had the most innocent and most sincere heart of anyone she knew.

And the biggest dreams.

Maddie put her forehead against his door and closed her eyes. He had so many aspirations and hopes for the future, and she couldn't bring herself to crush them, to tell him that his performance in school could never be conducive for a career exploring the stars. She could never do that to him, would encourage him to the end to keep pursuing his passions.

But in recent months, it seemed that he had been slowly giving up on these dreams, had consigned himself to the life that his teachers kept warning him he was headed for.

No matter what, she wouldn't let him feel abandoned or hopeless. Whatever happened to him, wherever his education took him, she would be there to help him. Even if his dreams were never realized, she'd see to it that her son was at least independent and happy.

She imagined him sleeping beyond the door. She used to read him bedtime stories, used to stroke his head and kiss him good night, used to whisper that she loved him in his ear, and he used to sleepily whisper it back. How long had it been since she last tucked him in? How long had it been since she last watched him sleep?

He was right there, so close, and yet she missed him fiercely. Her only son was already no longer her little boy. One day, someday soon, he would not be so close, somewhere faraway with his own family.

Just once more, just a quick glance, something she could hold onto, something to help her fall asleep.

She turned the doorknob and slowly opened it, cringing at the small creaking sound, hoping it wouldn't be enough to wake him.

But he didn't wake.

Because he wasn't there.

Maddie opened the door the rest of the way and approached his bed, pulled back his covers to be sure. She looked around the room, turned on the light so that she could see better.

She had just been downstairs. The bathroom was definitely empty when she walked by.

Where was he?

Panic was setting in quickly. She could feel it closing up her throat. She had said good night to him just a couple hours earlier, saw him retire to his room for the night.

He wouldn't sneak out. That couldn't be it.

She walked through the whole house, looked for lights or any other sign of him. But he was nowhere.

Back in her room, she picked up her cell phone and tried calling him. No answer. She sent him a text:  _Where are you?_  She tried calling him again, two, three, four times.

She shook Jack awake. He groggily opened his eyes.

"Jack, Danny's gone." Maddie tried to keep her voice calm, but she was shaking with worry.

Jack sat up. "Gone? What do you mean?"

"I mean he's  _gone_!" snapped Maddie. "He's not in his room. He's not anywhere in the house. He's not answering his phone."

Jack didn't say anything for a moment. "Do you think he snuck out?"

"I don't know," said Maddie. "I mean, that doesn't seem like him, but I don't know what other explanation there could be." She chewed her lip, put a hand to her chin. "I mean, unless—but who would—?" The worst scenarios ran through her mind. She didn't want to believe that Danny would deliberately break one of their biggest rules, but it was still preferable to someone forcibly taking him.

Jack stood and put a hand on her shoulder. "Do you want to call the police?"

"I want to go out and look for him myself." Maddie moved to her closet and pulled out one of her jumpsuits. "Honestly, I think we'd take this far more seriously than the police would, especially since we just saw him a couple hours ago."

"Right," said Jack. "He was here when we went to bed, for sure. And that was what, around ten? What time is it now?"

"After midnight." Maddie pulled on the hood of her jumpsuit over her hair. "Are you going to come with me?"

"Do you really think this is necessary?" asked Jack. "I'm sure he's okay. We could just wait for him to come home."

"But this isn't like him, Jack. This doesn't feel right to me. I could never forgive myself if something happened to him and all I did was wait around for him to come home." She headed to the door. "I'm going to grab some weapons. You know how ghosts are this time of night."

"Ooh, yeah!" agreed Jack enthusiastically. "I can try out my new Fentonuzi!"

Maddie power walked down the hall, stopped at Jazz's door. Perhaps Jazz knew something?

She opened the door and switched on the light. Jazz immediately opened her eyes and sat up in alarm. "What's going on?"

"Danny's gone," said Maddie. "Do you have any idea where he might be?"

Jazz shook her head. "Danny? No, I don't, but I'm sure he's—"

"I've tried calling him, but he hasn't answered." Maddie glanced at her phone again to check if he had tried to contact her, but there was still nothing from him. "I don't like this. He's not the type to sneak out. Your father and I are going to go out to look for him."

"Really? But—ah—"

"If you hear anything or if Danny comes home while we're out, call me." Maddie left the room and entered their basement lab, looked through their various ghost-hunting weapons and inventions. The Finder, the Ghost Weasel, the Specter Deflector. But perhaps it would be best to keep it simple. She picked up a Fenton Thermos and her trusted ecto-gun, made sure both were fully charged.

She was about to leave when something else caught her eye. A solution she had just recently finished, one that she knew worked after trying it out on smaller ghosts. She picked up a vial of the liquid. A concentrated dose could temporarily halt any changes in ghostly molecules. An injected ghost would be unable to become invisible or intangible until the effects wore off which was useful for the more invasive procedures and experiments she conducted on the ghostly specimens she captured.

But there was one ghost in particular she had created it for, the one ghost she was determined to have under her knife someday.

She grabbed a dart gun and loaded up a dart with the solution. She was going out to look for Danny and only Danny, but if Phantom happened to show up and she wasn't ready for him, she would kick herself.

"Ready?" asked Jack behind her. Maddie turned to see him holding up his newest weapon, an ectoplasmic assault gun that he had not yet tested but was very excited about.

"You sure you want to take that one?" asked Maddie. "Wouldn't it be better to take a gun you know definitely works?"

"What better way to test it than on a real ghost?" Jack's eyes were wide and bright.

Maddie shrugged and didn't argue. She had a gun that she knew worked, at least. And besides, they weren't going out to hunt ghosts. They had to find their son.

After switching on their ghost shield that surrounded their house, Maddie and Jack took to the streets, opting to not take their Assault Vehicle to be as inconspicuous as possible. They could more easily get around and sneak up on any ghosts on foot.

"Do you have a plan where to look, Mads?" asked Jack as he followed her. "Nothing's even open this time of night."

"Parks. Near the school. Maybe he's with some friends." She hoped this was true. She hoped he was safe wherever he was, with others he could trust.

A flash of green light farther up the street caught her attention. Such eerie luminescence could only mean one thing.

Maddie clutched her ecto-gun and started running toward the light.

"All right, a ghost!" exclaimed Jack, running beside her. "I can't wait to try this baby out." He caressed the length of his newest gun affectionately.

They sprinted onto the scene. Maddie abruptly stopped when she saw the ghost, a huge entity that resembled a spider. Maddie studied the creature through her orange-tinted goggles, noted its dripping fangs and shining eyes.

"That's what I'm talking about!" Jack excitedly aimed his Fentonuzi at the spider ghost. He pulled the trigger which resulted in nothing but a clicking sound.

Maddie groaned. "See, Jack, I told you—"

"No, wait, I got this." Jack inspected the gun, snapped some parts into place, shook it out.

The spider ghost shrieked and quickly moved toward them. Maddie held up her own gun, fearlessly locked onto it.

A blast knocked the ghost away, a blast that was not from her gun.

Maddie blinked in confusion and looked around for the source of the blast. There was another ghost hovering in the air above.

No, not just another ghost.

Maddie's gun dropped to her side as she gazed up in awe. The first ghost she had ever seen, the ghost that had restored her belief in the existence of ghosts, the ghost that was nothing like any of the others that haunted their town.

Crystalline hair of winter, glittering eyes of radioactivity, toned muscles that could be seen through the tight confines of his jumpsuit, a glow that outshone the moon.

He looked like a god.

"Hey, it's the ghost kid!" Jack cried. He was still trying to get his gun to work, was working more frantically than ever now that Phantom was present.

Phantom stared down at them, stared down at Maddie. She glared back at him intently.

_I will have you._

She fingered her dart gun attached to her belt, slowly reached for it so as not to alarm Phantom with any sudden movements.

But all that noise, all that scuffling from Jack as he desperately tried to get his own gun to work. Too much distraction.

With a loud sigh, she snatched the Fentonuzi away, eliciting an offended whine from him. She looked the gun over and hastily tried to assess the problem.

She could see movement on the upper periphery of her vision. Phantom was flying away. She yelled after him, but he ignored her.

_I'm not letting you get away. Not this time._

She thrust the Fentonuzi back into Jack's arms and chased after Phantom at full speed. But he was faster than her, and it wasn't long before she lost sight of him.

Irritated, Maddie continued her search, ran through the streets and glanced down every passage and alley. She had already forgotten why she was out there in the first place. Right now, all that mattered was that Phantom was somewhere nearby.

An ethereal light from an alley caught her attention. She stopped running and stared down the darkened passageway.

Anticipation and desire. So much desire.

She crept into the alley, kept her steps as light as possible.

There.

She held her breath. A tall gate, two silver trash cans, and the ghost she wanted more than any other to lock away in her basement lab.

He was facing away from her, looking up into the sky. Maddie removed her goggles and placed them on top of her hooded head so that she could see him with her own eyes.

His stance was normally confident and cocky, but as he gazed upward, he seemed only pensive, lonely even. Although she couldn't see his face, she could sense a hint of melancholy longing as he silently held his arms.

The bounty on his head was remarkably high. So many others wanted him, the Guys in White and other ghost hunters. She could turn him over to any of them for a handsome price.

But he was worth far more to her in her possession.

_I won't let anyone else have you._

She held up her dart gun, steadied and aimed it.

_You belong to me._

She pulled the trigger, watched the dart tear through the air and hit him in the back near his neck. He yelled and immediately pulled it out. Maddie could see his hand shaking as he tried to understand what it was.

He began to turn around.

"Don't move!" Maddie shouted. She held up her charged ecto-gun, directed it right at him.

His whole body tensed. The dart fell out of his hand and clattered to the ground.

"What you have just been injected with won't let you change your molecules in any way for a while," Maddie informed him. "You won't be able to become invisible or intangible."

He tried to turn again to face her.

"I said don't move!" she snapped at him viciously.

He froze and made no further attempt to turn.

Maddie approached him until she was close enough that she didn't have to yell for him to hear her. "Get on your knees," she commanded coldly, "and place your hands on your head."

He remained motionless.

"Phantom, now! I  _will_  shoot you if I must!" She kept her gun trained on him. She hoped he could hear its whirring.

At last, he lowered himself, slowly dropped to one knee and then the other, raised his hands and interlaced them on the back of his head. Maddie reveled in his reluctant compliance, his nervous discomfort. Euphoric victory filled her head, lifted her high.

She had him. He was hers.

For so long she had pursued him. For so long he had evaded her. To have him here now, trapped and cornered and at her mercy, the most exhilarating delirium. Joyriding on his arrest, thrilling herself on his submission, swelling with lustful vehemence.

Time was stopped just for her, intensifying this triumphant climax that penetrated deep to her core.

Phantom turned his head to try to look back at her.

"Keep looking forward, Phantom."

He obeyed, remained in the subservient position she had forced him into. "How long are you going to keep me like this?"

He was trying to sound calm, but Maddie could sense his apprehension. She was in control, and he knew it. "As long as I feel like keeping you like this."

If only there was some way to bottle this moment, this sensation.

"Look, I'm sorry you have such a bad impression of me—"

"Shut up, ghost."

Maddie took a couple steps forward.

_Wanna do something painful, Phantom?_

She moved until she was close enough to touch him.

_Wanna listen to something that hurts, Phantom?_

She put the barrel of her blaster right next to his head, close to his ear so that he could hear its droning charge.

"I should just shoot you now, end your problematic existence," she said evenly. But no, she wasn't really going to kill him. She wanted only to frighten him, wanted him to understand just how powerless he was.

He scoffed, as if he dared to think he knew more than she did. "Problematic? Without me—"

But she wasn't about to let him talk to her that way.

She hit him over the head with her gun, right above his interlocked hands. "Just because you've saved our town a few times doesn't mean you're a saint."

"What does it mean, then?" demanded Phantom with a tremor.

"Tell me why I shouldn't shoot you."

"Amity Park would be teeming with ghosts by now if it weren't for me, and if you get rid of me, the ghosts will completely take over."

Maddie gritted her teeth. "You think we can't handle them ourselves, Phantom?"

Phantom shook his head. "It's not that at all! It's just…" He paused. "I kind of have a slight advantage when it comes to ghost-fighting."

"Because you're a ghost yourself?"

Phantom nodded.

Maddie studied him for a silent minute, his gloved hands still on his head, the outline of his face in profile. "You've always been fascinating to me, Phantom. From the moment I first saw you, I could tell you were different, not like the other ghosts. I wanted to capture you for science, for experimental reasons. I wanted to…rip you open, look inside you, see what you're made of."

Her gaze went lower. She noted the tautness of his back and the muscled definition in his thighs.

_I dreamt that I was trailing my fingers down your bare chest, your arms restrained above your head and unable to stop me._

His breaths became deeper, more labored.

"But Phantom, all of our problems started with you. Maybe if I just get rid of you, those problems will disappear with you."

She watched his brow crease in thought.

"What do you mean they all started with me?" he finally asked.

"My husband and I were just about ready to give up on ghosts." Maddie lowered her eyes. "We were…about to give it all up. We had never actually seen ghosts before, you see, and we were starting to wonder if we would ever see any." She paused. "One day, we almost gave up our belief in ghosts altogether." Another pause. "At the exact moment my husband was about to declare that ghosts weren't real, you, of all ghosts, flew by."

He had been in sight for only a short second that day, but she could never forget that moment. At last, after innumerable hours of research that seemed to never pay off, his existence validated it all, restored her confidence in everything she had been working toward.

"Ever since that moment, Phantom, we've had an overwhelming number of ghost problems. Why is that?" She moved even closer to him. "Why is it that as soon as we saw you, we've had these ghost problems when we  _never_  had them before?"

Phantom made no reply.

"If you don't have a good answer, I can only assume that you're behind it all." She pressed the barrel of her gun to his head.

He gasped, shut his eyes. His muscles tightened, his hands shook. "Please don't shoot me."

The corners of Maddie's mouth curled up.

_I've never seen you so afraid. I'd kind of like to see you cry._

"Tell me why we've been having ghost problems," she ordered.

He hesitated.

"I'm losing my patience, Phantom."

"I'll give you an answer if you could just back away a little," he said slowly. "Your gun being right up against my head is making it hard for me to focus."

He was grasping for any power at all, and she wouldn't let him have it.

"You'll give me an answer, or I'll kill you."

He faltered, swayed.

_That's right. The charges against you will be judged at my discretion._

"It's…it  _is_  actually kind of sort of my fault that all these ghosts appeared—"

"Really?" With her gun still pressed to his head, Maddie pushed him lower.

"Hear me out! I didn't mean to! It was an accident!"

Maddie lifted her gun in intrigue. "An accident?"

Phantom straightened up. "You know your ghost portal, right?"

Maddie frowned, did not reply right away. "What about it?"

"Remember how it didn't work when you first created it?"

Maddie chewed the inside of her cheek. "How do you know about that?"

"Because…well…I saw it myself. I was there when it wasn't working."

Maddie stared down at him with both curiosity and irritation. Was this true? How else would he know about the troubles they initially had with their ghost portal? If it really was true, then he had been in their house before she even knew he existed. Maddie did not like the thought of Phantom intruding without her knowledge. What else had he seen? Had he been spying on them?

"I was…trying to get back to the ghost zone. As a ghost, I knew that was where I belonged. The way I had gotten here was no longer accessible, so I was looking for another way. When I came across your portal, I knew that was my chance." His voice quavered. "But it needed to be turned on properly. So, when I saw your son alone by the portal—"

"My son?"

All at once, she remembered the real reason she was out here in the first place. He was not in his room. He was not home. He was  _missing_.

And why was Phantom talking about him?

"What about my son?" she demanded with a rise in pitch.

Phantom frowned. "Uh, yes, your son," he said tentatively. "I saw him and—"

"What do you know about my son?" She pressed her gun directly to his head again. "Where is he? What have you done with him?" she snarled.

No more toying with him, no more enjoying his submissive distress. He knew her son. Her Danny. What else did Phantom know about him? Why would Phantom even think about approaching her son? What other contact had he been having with Danny?

And where was Danny now? Did Phantom know?

Surely, yes, definitely, Phantom knew where her son was now. No, rather, Phantom had done something with her son. Danny would never just run off in the middle of the night, would never intentionally break one of her rules and sneak out. Phantom either had to be behind her son's disappearance or at least part of it.

Still on his knees, hands still clasped on his head, Phantom was silent, did not make any sound at all.

"Answer me, Phantom!" screamed Maddie. "I'll shoot you! I'll shoot you right now if you don't tell me where he is!"

She would kill him for this, for daring to hurt her son. She'd kill him now and drag his empty shell to her basement lab where she'd break him apart and violate him in any and every way she pleased.

"What are you talking about?" he cried.

He sounded so afraid, so terrified. Good. Maddie wanted his final moments to be agonizing.

"I'm not playing, Phantom." Maddie grabbed him by his hair, pulled at his shimmery strands. She bent down and kept her gun pressed to his head as she spoke into his ear. "You are not worth any more trouble. Tell me where my son is, and I'll be sure to end your existence humanely."

He was seized by sudden tremors. Maddie could feel them coursing through him.

"I'm…" Strangled by his intense fear, words almost inaudible. " _I'm_ your—"

"Maddie!"

Jack's voice. He sounded distressed. Without releasing her grip on Phantom's hair, she turned to look back at him. "Jack, what is it?"

The spider ghost she and Jack had confronted earlier appeared in the alley behind her husband. Maddie immediately straightened up, yanked Phantom up by his hair with her.

Jack was staring at her, unaware of the spider's front legs that were reaching for him.

"Jack, watch out!" screamed Maddie.

The spider snatched Jack, knocked the Fentonuzi out of his hands and sent it skidding on the ground toward Maddie. The sight of her husband in trouble took over, and she released her hold on her captive ghost. She ran swiftly, picked up the Fentonuzi and fired her own blaster at the spider's legs.

The spider shrieked and leered at Maddie. Maddie continued firing at the spider, but it would not relinquish its hold on her husband.

"Maddie!" cried Jack.

Maddie looked too late to see the spider ghost aiming a shot of webbing straight at her. She sailed backwards and hit a wall. She struggled to break out of the silky entrapment, watched in horror as her husband, still in the spider's grasp, had no way to defend himself. The spider stared down at him hungrily.

But he had a great shot if he only had a gun.

Her own blaster was too heavy for her to throw to him, but the Fentonuzi…yes, she could throw that.

She broke her arms through the webbing and turned the new gun over in her hands to analyze whatever was wrong with it. The bolt was slightly out of place. It would have to be properly fixed later, but for now, Maddie slammed it in tight and raised her arm to throw it. "Jack!" she yelled.

Maddie threw the gun hard and precisely, watched it soar through the air and land neatly in Jack's gloved hand. He grinned and aimed it right at the spider's face, pulled the trigger and delivered a powerfully focused beam of ectoplasmic energy into the spider's many eyes. The spider instantly released him, staggered backwards and rolled onto its back, its legs curling upward.

Jack sealed the ghost in a Thermos, then ran to his wife and pulled the webbing off of her. She grabbed his face and kissed him. His strong arms wrapped around her.

"We make a good team, huh?" Jack looked down at her glowingly, lovingly.

"The best," agreed Maddie.

Jack tossed the Thermos a short way into the air, caught it again in his hand. "This ghost isn't going to fit in our basement. But I wouldn't mind collecting some venom or silk samples from it."

Another ghost in their possession, another ghost to tear into to further their understanding of the supernatural realm.

But not the ghost she wanted.

Maddie glanced around, stared up into the sky.

"What are you looking for?" asked Jack.

"Phantom." Maddie moaned. "I had him."

"Oh, right. I saw that. It looked like you  _really_  had him. Why didn't you suck him into your Thermos when you had the chance?"

"I was enjoying the moment way too much," muttered Maddie. She wondered where he was right at that moment, wondered what he was thinking.

"Well, no point in dwelling on it." Jack shrugged. "We still need to find Danny."

Maddie's eyes widened. "Danny." She turned to Jack in panic. "What if a ghost got him? What if that spider ghost got him first? Do you think he's okay?"

"He's a Fenton. I'm positive he can hold his own against a ghost."

"He doesn't carry around ghost-fighting weapons like we do."

"He's fine," insisted Jack.

The two returned to the streets, looked for any further signs of ghosts and, more importantly, their son.

Maddie's cell phone rang. She looked at the screen. "Hang on. Jazz is calling." She stopped walking and answered the call.

"Mom?" came Jazz's voice.

"Jazz, what is it? Did you hear from Danny?"

"He's actually home now."

"Really? Is he there with you?"

"Yes, he's right here."

"Thank God." Maddie put a hand to her chest. "Is he okay?"

"Yeah, he's…he's fine."

Such a swell of joy broke over her. "Okay, we're coming home right now." She disconnected the call and looked at Jack. "Danny's home."

Jack grinned. "See? I told you he was okay."

They moved quickly through the streets back to their home. In the living room, Danny and Jazz stood up from the couch as they walked in.

His somber expression. His arms down at his sides.

Her boy.

"Danny!" Maddie ran to him, threw her arms around him, hugged him close to her.

Safe in her arms.

"I was worried sick!" Maddie pulled away, her hands moving from his back to his shoulders. She frowned, now cross that he had caused her to feel this way in the first place. "Where have you been, young man?"

Danny's eyes were empty and looking through her. "I'm sorry for worrying you. I was with Sam."

Maddie furrowed her brow. His tone was flat, his response automatic, his focus diverged. "Sam?" she echoed.

"Yes. I'm sorry." So oddly monotonous.

"Ah, kids." Jack laughed behind her.

Maddie turned back to him with narrowed eyes. "Jack, this is serious."

"Uh…yes, it is," said Jack quickly, straightening up. "And we will definitely have a talk with Sam's parents tomorrow."

"We certainly will." Maddie turned back to Danny, her hands still on his shoulders as she looked at him intently. "And we'll have to think of a suitable punishment for you, Danny."

But at least he was here now, here with her. Her expression softened. "But I'm so relieved you're safe. I was afraid that…" The paranoid scenarios that had entered her mind, the frightening possibilities that could have befallen him. "Well, it doesn't matter. You're safe."

"Yes. I am."

He spoke so quietly with a gaze still unfocused. Maddie studied him, his white face and haunted eyes. "Are you okay, Danny?"

Danny nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just…really sorry. And tired."

Maddie frowned. She had never seen him like this before. "You seem…I feel like something's wrong."

She moved her hand up to run her fingers through his thick hair like she so often did, a tender act that she knew was comforting to him.

A gentle sweep through his dark strands—

Danny sharply inhaled and pulled his head back, stepped away so that Maddie was no longer touching him at all.

A flash of something else in his eyes, no longer dull and unfocused.

"Danny?" Maddie asked in alarm.

Danny broke into a smile, a smile that looked misplaced. "I'm fine, really. I promise."

Maddie noted the way his eyes did not match his smile at all. "You know you can talk to me, right?"

Danny inclined his head. "Of course I know that. You're my mother."

His tone sounded so strangely light now, no longer flat. Maddie's mouth opened slightly in worried confusion.

"Is it all right if I go to bed now, or do you still want to talk about this?" he asked.

No, this was not all right. This was not settling well with Maddie at all.

But she nodded. "Yes. We'll talk tomorrow."

She leaned in to kiss his head, but he evaded her, so quickly walked away from her that it could not be interpreted as anything other than purposeful avoidance. She watched him ascend the stairs with Jazz right behind him.

"I guess Danny's not too happy about getting caught like this," said Jack in a low voice. He was standing beside her now.

"You think that's it?" asked Maddie.

"I'm sure it is." Jack yawned. "And he's probably tired, too. I know I am."

"What do you think he was doing with Sam? At this hour?"

"We'll find out tomorrow." Jack began leading her upstairs. "For now, let's just be glad he's okay and get some sleep."

Maddie followed Jack, glanced at Danny's closed door as they walked past. Yes, he was okay, safe at home where she could watch over him. That was all that mattered at the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will resume the story.


	9. Chapter 9

In the morning light, in his mirror, his reflection looked afraid and anxious, but at least he didn't look so tired. He had actually managed to get a decent amount of sleep.

With a little help…

So many thoughts and worries had plagued him as he tried to fall asleep. Should he tell her? Keep it secret? What would she say? What would she do? Would she be angry? Apologetic? Would she accept him? Would she still want to tear into him? Or would she give up on that dream and just let him be?

He had really needed to sleep, but his mind refused to shut off, his headache refused to quit. An emergency? Definitely. If he was going to tell her the next day, he needed to be well-rested.

Just one dose, one tablet of hydrocodone was enough to knock him out and send him into a blissfully deep dreamless nightmareless panicless sleep.

He'd just never tell Sam that he had used it in that way. But really, it  _was_  an emergency, and after today, maybe he wouldn't even need it at all anymore. Maybe his mother would be able to help him out with his frequent pain and soreness.

Or perhaps she'd forbid him from fighting ghosts ever again?

He'd deal with the consequences later. He just knew he had to do this because he could not go on feeling so afraid of her.

As he looked in his mirror, he practiced his confession, tried out a number of different approaches, let the words roll off his tongue so that they would hopefully be effortless later.

"Hey, Mom, guess what? You know that ghost you've been trying to capture? Yeah, right, Danny Phantom. Have you noticed that he and I have the same first name?"

"Hey, Mom. Whatcha doin'? Ghost stuff? Dissecting this ghost right here? Well, that's funny because I actually am one myself. Just thought you should know."

"Hey, Mom. Let's play two truths and a lie. Ready? Okay. I really love astronomy. My bowling average is one-twenty. I'm Danny Phantom. Which statements are true? No, Mom, my bowling average is one-fifty. You know that."

"Hey, Mom. You know how you thought Phantom was behind my disappearance the other night? Well, you weren't actually wrong. No, it's not what you think. I mean…"

He stared at himself in the mirror, placed his forehead against its cool surface.

"I'm Danny Phantom," he whispered.

He felt almost stupid saying it, as if he was trying to delude himself.

Black hair still damp from showering, blue eyes under thick brows.

He looked so ordinary.

Would she even believe him?

The second thoughts were coming back, the same thoughts that invaded his head the previous night. She had hurt him so much, more than she could ever comprehend.

But also more than he ever wanted her to know.

He didn't want to hurt her with this admission, didn't want her to feel as bad as he did now. He was supposed to be a hero, was supposed to protect others, and if he extended such protection to the complete strangers of his town, then shouldn't he be trying even harder to protect those closest to him?

But how long did he really think he could keep this from her? She was so intelligent, so much smarter than him. Perhaps too blinded by her research to see what was so obvious, but it couldn't possibly continue like that forever. She would find out someday, definitely.

And the longer it took her to find out, the more painful it would be for her.

Yes, surely, it was better for her sake that he not wait any longer. He had to tell her. Today.

Downstairs, the rest of his family was sitting on the couch. Jazz was reading something. Jack and Maddie were watching the news.

"Danny!" Jack checked the time. "You're finally up."

Danny glanced at the clock as well. Almost eleven. "Sorry. I just slept really hard, I guess."

"No need to apologize. It's the weekend," said Maddie.

She smiled at him. Danny tried to smile back, but his mouth would not obey his mind. It was hard enough just to keep eye contact with her.

She stood but did not approach him. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," he said automatically. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, I mean, are you up for…" Maddie paused, bit her lip. "I was thinking of driving out to the canyon today if you wanted to join me."

Danny didn't reply right away. "The canyon? That's an hour away."

"I know. It's such a nice day. I thought it'd be a nice thing to do today. We won't hike, just drive through it."

Danny looked away and blinked a couple times in thought. He knew exactly why she wanted to take this long drive, exactly what she was hoping to get out of it. An excuse to be alone for a few hours, hopefully uninhibited so that they could discuss his behavior the past couple days and nights.

But he couldn't help but think about just how large that canyon was, how poor the cell reception was, how isolated certain parts of it were, how no one would be around to help him if she—

He breathed, stopped, met his mother's gaze again.

His  _mother_.

She was not going to hurt him. Once she knew, everything would be okay again.

Jazz was peeking at him from behind her book. He could see the solemnity in her eyes.

"Okay," he finally said.

Maddie smiled with what looked like relief and walked up to him, slowly placed an arm around his shoulder and began leading him to the front door. Danny let her.

At the front door, Maddie picked up a set of keys and held them out to him. "You should drive."

Danny stared at the keys. "Why me?"

"You haven't driven in a while. You do want to get your license, right? You have to practice if you want to pass the driving test."

The memory of his first time ever driving with his mother flashed through his mind. The anxiety, the uncertainty, the insults, the screaming.

"You don't have to drive through the canyon if you don't want to," said Maddie with a creased brow. "I was thinking we could get something to eat first. You could just drive to the Nasty Burger or something, and then I can take over."

He had been so tired of her yelling at him, for making him feel like even more of a failure than his teachers and classmates had ever made him feel. He slammed down on the accelerator, went over and far beyond the speed limit, ran a stop sign, didn't brake until—

Danny tried to swallow it back down. The mark she had left on his face at the end of that first driving lesson lasted only a day, but the shame he felt still hadn't subsided (because oh yes he deserved it because it was all his fault because he really was a jerk and an idiot and everything she said), and he was only reminded of it every time he took the wheel with her in the passenger seat.

"I can't," he finally stammered. "I mean, um…I'd rather not this time." His eyes lowered. "If that's okay."

Maddie slowly nodded. "Okay."

In the passenger seat of Maddie's car, Danny wasn't sure where to look. Out the side window? Out the front? Down? At her?

"Where do you wanna eat?" asked Maddie as she drove. "In the mood for anything specific?"

"I'm not hungry," said Danny evenly.

Maddie didn't speak for a moment, a silence laced with concern.

"Danny, I want you to eat. You haven't been eating much lately."

"That's not—I have—" Wait, wasn't he supposed to be telling her the truth? Why deny this?

But his mind was screaming at him to lie. It had been his habit for so long, a habit that didn't want to be broken.

She glanced at him kindly. "I just don't want you getting any thinner. You've always been the smallest in your class, you know."

Danny pursed his lips and looked down.

"Oh, no, sorry. I didn't mean it like that." Maddie sighed. "I was actually just thinking about how much you've grown this past year alone. You've certainly put on quite a bit of muscle. Have you been working out?"

She was trying to save the situation. Danny decided to let her save it as he nodded. "You could say that."

"What does that mean?"

He didn't reply. He wasn't ready just yet.

She ordered him something from the drive-through of a fast food restaurant, something that he would've devoured in minutes if he had his normal appetite and his normal mood and if he wasn't all alone with the woman who had tried to kill him.

But he could stop thinking of her that way if he could just find the courage to tell her.

They headed for the canyon in the most uncomfortable silence Danny had ever experienced. He had something he wanted to confess; she had questions she wanted to ask.

He couldn't break that silence. He tried, yelled at his mind and mouth to get the words out, but they were paralyzed.

"Danny."

She finally spoke, so tenderly and motherly. Danny didn't look at her, only pulled in shallow breaths.

"You know why we're on this drive, don't you?"

With her falling intonation, it didn't really sound like a question.

"I need you to talk to me, Danny." Her voice started quavering. "You agreed to come with me because you want to talk to me, right?"

Danny finally looked at her as she kept her eyes on the road.

"What's going on?" she asked. "Danny, what's been going on with you? Why have you been acting so…" She paused. "You've been so strange since we caught you."

"Caught me?" he rasped.

She had caught him, trapped him, pinned him, grabbed him.

"Yes. When we caught you sneaking out. What really happened that night, Danny?"

That night.

"Please tell me," she begged.

His words still refused to come out. He looked up and tried to blink away the tears that so desperately wanted to spill out. He hated letting anyone see him cry, least of all his mother.

"Do you want to tell me, Danny?"

"Yes," he whispered.

Silence.

"Take your time," she whispered back.

He leaned over and hung his head, that same horribly uncomfortable feeling of having to think to breathe, as if his brain simply didn't want him to live anymore and was determined to make it hard for him so that he'd just give up give up give up lie lie lie lie lie lie lielielielielielie

The car stopped, the engine shut off. Danny raised his head to see that they were now parked in a scenic area of the canyon.

He turned to Maddie. She unbuckled her seatbelt, pressed the button on his and gently moved the belt so that it was behind him.

"There is something I want to talk to you about," she said quietly. "I don't know if it's related to what you want to tell me. Maybe it is. I'm actually hoping it is. But if not, then I definitely want to make sure we discuss it."

"What is it?" he choked out.

"You sure you want me to go first?"

He nodded, his throat still too closed off to adequately speak.

"I want to talk about your overuse of painkillers."

He didn't move. Didn't even blink.

"Danny, are you in pain a lot? Or do you think you are?"

This was not—no, he didn't want to talk about—why was she asking—

"Danny, can you please try to answer? Please just be honest with me. Please don't try to deny it."

Danny pulled in a deep breath. "I…" Another breath. "Yes. I mean, yes, um…I've been in pain a lot lately." He could make this work. He could lead into it this way.

"Do you know why that is? Have you been doing anything lately that would make you think that?"

The way she used "think," as if she was asking if it could be in his head. In his head, that persistent headache that went away with a hit of hydrocodone but was quickly returning in this moment.

No. He wasn't imagining his pain. He just had to tell her exactly what was causing it. "Well, remember when you asked if I've been working out?"

"Have you been working out because of Dash?"

Dash? Where did that come from?

"Danny, does he still bully you? Even after I called the school?"

Danny shook his head. "No!" he answered quickly. But what was he saying no to? Dash hadn't let up on him, but he had told her that he had just so she would stop worrying about him. "I mean, no, that's not what I—"

"He doesn't bother you anymore?"

"That's not where my pain is coming from if that's what you're asking."

"What kind of pain is it?"

Wouldn't she rather know  _why_  he was in pain? "Nothing really. Just headaches sometimes, muscle soreness…" Bruises. Lacerations. Punctures. Sprains. Fractures. Nothing really.

"From working out?"

"Yes. Well, but not what you think—"

"What do you usually take?"

"Ah, you mean like the names? Um, well, it depends on what I'm feeling."

"Just name everything you've taken in the past month."

Everything? "I don't really remember."

"Danny," she said sharply. "Tell me."

He leaned back, let out a shaky breath. "Just whatever's in our medicine cabinet."

"Tell me."

"Ibuprofen. Tylenol. Aspirin. Aleve. You know, just the basic stuff that's in our cabinet."

"You noticed I locked it, right?"

Danny said nothing.

"Do you know why we keep all that? And why we let you and Jazz get into it freely now that you're both older? For those times when you are in pain." She paused. "So if you really are using it for pain, then that's okay, but they aren't supposed to be used long-term. You know that, right?"

Danny nodded.

"But sometimes, when you start using painkillers very often, it's possible for you to get to a point where you feel as if you're always in pain  _unless_  you're on painkillers. But it's not always real. Sometimes, when you get that dependent on something, your mind tricks you into thinking you need it when you really don't."

Was she really trying to tell him he was just imagining this pain? It was all definitely real. This headache, this pain in his head—

—in his head, all of it?—

"This isn't—no—" he sputtered.

"I'm not saying you're at that point yet," said Maddie soothingly. "But I'm seeing the signs and symptoms, and I want to help you now before you get there."

"What, are you trying to say I'm—" He stopped himself. He couldn't even say it.

"You're just taking more than you should be."

"They're just over the counter painkillers!"

"That's not all you're taking, is it, Danny?"

Not a question. An accusation. He thought back to the hydrocodone he had used to help him sleep the night before.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, hoping to call her bluff. She couldn't possibly know. Not even Jazz knew. Sam and Tucker wouldn't tell her about him taking anything stronger—

—unless they thought he had a problem—

—Jazz had mentioned her concern about his frequent use of analgesics to him, so if she asked them about it—

No. They wouldn't betray him like that. Not the only two people he could sincerely trust.

"Remember when I told you I spoke to Sam's mother?" asked Maddie.

"Yes," said Danny hesitantly.

"She told me something, but I don't want you to get upset, okay? Just please be honest with me." Maddie put her hand over his. "She says that every time you come over, her supply of narcotics lowers."

Danny's jaw slacked. He looked up and out at the scenic sky.

"Danny, have you been taking narcotics, too?"

NO yes  _what_  how?

Yes, it was true, he had even taken one a little over twelve hours ago, but he  _had_  to. He had to tell her why, had to convince her he wasn't some drugged up addict.

"No, that's  _not_ —"

"Danny, it's okay. You're okay, okay? It's all okay. You'll be okay."

What was she even saying? Her words made no sense.

Why were they talking about this? He didn't have a problem, didn't have an addiction. He wanted to tell her why he was taking them in the first place and show her that it wasn't because he was some damaged mental case but because he was the town's regular punching bag and  _her_ prey—

After all he did for this town, for everyone and for  _her_  to treat him like a  _thing_  with no feelings—

And now to be accused of being an addict on top of it all! As if his pain didn't matter, just the means he was using to control it because everyone his sister his mom apparently just wanted him to be in pain all the time because apparently addiction was worse than pain because apparently it was okay if it was physical as long as his mind was healthy because ghost fighting was his own choice so apparently he deserved all of the pain that came with it.

"Danny."

Stop saying his name! She said it way too often.

"Danny, is that why you snuck out to see Sam? Does she know about this, too? Has she been getting them to you?"

Danny threw the door open and jumped out of the car, walked away—where?—wherever—couldn't stay still any longer had to move had to get away.

Alone.

He didn't have a problem. She just didn't know the whole story.

But Jazz knew, and she still seemed concerned about his use of painkillers.

What did Jazz understand? What could she possibly understand? She had never done any real ghost fighting, had never experienced real pain.

 _Real_  pain, yes, that's what this was—

_is it?_

He was already counting down the hours until it would be safe for him to take more no not MORE just something ELSE he wasn't that stupid.

He hadn't taken anything the night before last.

_because the cabinet was locked_

No, but he didn't take any narcotics either. See? He could stop himself.

_you didn't last night_

He needed to sleep! He hadn't slept in two nights.

_it's not sleep medication moron_

He had been in some pain, too.

_what pain? you haven't been ghost fighting in two nights now_

Pain from—

_what? from when she hit you? injected you? that all stopped hurting yesterday_

That pain would never go away. Not unless he told her.

_you really think that would just solve ALL of your problems? you really think you don't need more help than that?_

Still alone.

Danny glanced back at the car and saw that his mother was still there. He wasn't very far from the car, but he sensed that he had been outside for a while although he had no memory of just how long or what he had even been doing. Pacing? Had he gone far and just now returned?

Regardless, it seemed his mother had remained in the car the whole time he was out.

In something of a trance, he returned to the car, climbed into the passenger seat and leaned forward without looking at her.

Nothing was said for some time.

"Danny." Maddie finally spoke. "Have you been taking narcotics, too?"

Still not looking at her, he slowly nodded.

"And is that why you snuck out to see Sam? So that you could get more from her?"

An excuse. A way to explain his behavior without revealing his secret.

He raised his head as he considered this idea. That could explain everything. He could pretend to be an addict—

_you sure you'd just be pretending?_

—and then she'd never have to know his real secret.

It's what his lie-obsessed mind wanted him to do, what it was commanding him to do, the part of his brain that wanted to live and was afraid of what would happen if this manic scientist next to him knew who—no— _what_  he really was.

lie lie lie lie lie lie lielielielieLIELIE

He nodded again.

And everything cleared. His thoughts became coherent all at once as he realized what he had just done, as he listened to her talk about what would be happening from there. Searching his room, turning over whatever narcotics he had, therapy—

"Therapy?" Danny echoed.

"Yes."

She was serious. She was going to handle this very, very seriously.

And it wasn't even the real problem.

_you sure about that?_

"I'll be calling Sam's parents, too—"

"No, please," said Danny. "Please don't get Sam in trouble for this."

"I have to let them know what's been going on," said Maddie. "I can't keep it from them that she's been stealing their narcotics for you."

They were driving again, heading back out of the canyon, curving and swerving along the winding roads.

He couldn't do this. He couldn't accept treatment for something that wasn't the real root of his issue, couldn't make his parents pay for therapy that wouldn't help him.

_are you kidding? you're definitely a head case who needs a shrink_

He couldn't let Sam get blamed like this and land her in even more trouble than before. He couldn't even ask that of her.

He had to tell the truth. Now.

He sucked in a breath. "Mom, um…there's something else. I don't really know how to say it, but, um…it's about Phantom."

"Phantom?" Maddie seemed instantly curious. "Actually, that's funny because I've been wanting to ask you about him."

"Oh?"

"Yes, but you first."

"No, go ahead. What do you want to ask?"

"Remember when you figured out how to turn on our ghost portal?"

Of course. He couldn't forget that, the day his life and chemical configuration completely changed.

"Did the ghost boy show you how? Phantom?"

Danny slowly shook his head. "No. Not at all."

"You sure?"

"Yes, because—"

"That lying bastard."

Danny stared at her. "What?"

Maddie rolled her eyes. "He just told me that he showed you how to turn it on. Well, I mean, he never actually said it. I kind of cut him off before he could finish, but that seemed to be where he was going with his story." She glanced at Danny. "Oh, that's right. I never told you. Wednesday night when we went out looking for you, I found Phantom." She hit her steering wheel. "And I almost caught him. I'm so mad at myself for letting him get away."

Danny swallowed, breathed, tried to resummon his courage. "Why are you so obsessed with catching him?" he managed to ask.

Maddie's eyes glimmered as she stared out ahead at the road. "How could I not be? After years of disappointments and jeers and failed attempts to find ghosts, he was the first ghost I ever saw, and with him came everything your dad and I had been trying for so long to prove." She smiled deviously. "He'd be the ultimate trophy. Ooh, I'd lord him over all who ever doubted me and told me I was crazy."

Danny could only stare at her eager expression.

"And what I could learn from him! He's so unusual, almost humanlike. I just have to figure him out, you know? I've got to see what he is exactly. He almost seems like a different species of ghost entirely. Our ghost equipment can't even detect his presence, can't seem to lock onto his ecto-signature. I mean, why is that? He must not be the same as other ghosts, right?"

Danny recalled how Tucker had helped him tamper with all of his parents' ghost equipment so that they would not respond to him, would not recognize him as a ghost.

"But…" He struggled to find the words. "But isn't he…still a person?"

Maddie furrowed her brow. "A person?"

"Yeah, like…he has feelings, right?"

"Feelings." Maddie echoed with falling intonation.

"Yes!" Danny cried, trying desperately to convince her, to make her understand. "Why do you want to hurt him so much?"

Maddie scrunched up her mouth. "It's not that I  _want_  to hurt him necessarily. But…" She chewed the inside of her cheek as she thought. "To answer your question, no, he's not a person." She paused, stared straight ahead, nodded to herself a couple times. "Just a really good imitation of one."

Stunned. Danny couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Oh, he's very good at imitating a real person. He's got so many fooled, so many who idolize him, all of those silly girls who are in love with him." Maddie chortled. "And I can see how you'd be fooled, too, Danny. But I've been studying ghosts since before you were born. Trust me when I say that ghosts are  _not_  capable of real, human feelings. Any feelings they seem to have are artificial, meant to trick us and used to satisfy whatever their individual ghostly obsessions are."

That word. "Obsessions?"

"Oh, yes. All ghosts have them. And Phantom's seems to be gaining the favor of this town, to be regarded as a hero. See, he imitates human emotion in order to make the people of this town respect and adore him."

"No—but—how do you know he's not just really trying to protect the town because he cares about the people here? What makes you think he's doing it just to be a hero?"

"I know how ghosts work, how they think. There's no way he's doing it just for the sake of the town. He's serving himself in some way. Because that's just what ghosts do."

Danny couldn't look at her.

"When I catch him, I can show you what I mean if you want," said Maddie. "I'll show you how he's able to pretend so well, show you the difference between human pain receptors and spectral pain receptors, what real pain looks like on a real person and what artificial pain looks like on a ghost."

"Stop," Danny murmured.

"I have a long list of tests to run on him, tests I've designed just for him. I've been trying them on some other ghosts, but they never last long enough to get any meaningful results. But I'm sure he'd be able to endure them all and give me exactly what I want because he's definitely made of something different."

"Stop," he said again, a little louder, more forcefully.

"And if I could just see inside him, you know? I just want to— _need_  to figure out exactly what kind of ectoplasm he's got running through him because it can't possibly be what's running through all of the other ghosts I've worked on. Get some samples, cut into him and see if he's as similar to humans on the inside as he is on the outside."

"Stop!" he shouted.

His fists were clenched as he drew in labored breaths.

Maddie stayed silent for a moment. "Sorry," she said. "It's just…he's been on my mind for so long now, ever since I first saw him. My first ghost." She sighed with longing. "And I just really, really want him."

Danny gazed at her with trembling lips, increasing pain in his head, building pressure in his eyes. He turned away.

"I can see that."


	10. Chapter 10

In their bedroom, Maddie closed the door and faced Jack.

"So…is it what you were thinking?" asked Jack in a low voice.

Danny was downstairs with Jazz. Maddie knew she could trust Jazz to keep an eye on him until she and Jack were ready to talk to him together. She leaned against the closed door with her arms folded against her. "Yes," she confirmed. "He admitted that he snuck out to see Sam to get narcotics."

"Do you know how it started? Or if he's doing anything more than that?"

"I didn't pry too much. I didn't want to overwhelm him. But I don't think he's been taking painkillers to get a high. I think he really thinks he's in pain and  _needs_  them." Maddie moved to the bed and sat down. "I think there might be a lot more to it, something psychological, anxiety or depression." She put her head in her hands.

Jack sat next to her and put a hand on her back. "Maddie?"

"I just don't know how I missed this." Maddie shook her head. "No. I didn't miss it. I just ignored it. His teachers have sent so many e-mails, and he's been so withdrawn and secretive since he started high school. But I kept telling myself he was fine, normal." She stared at the floor. "I guess I just thought that if I ignored it, it wouldn't be true, that it would just fix itself."

Jack pulled her close to him so that her head was against his chest. "I'm just as much at fault," he said while stroking her hair. "I didn't want to believe there was anything wrong with him either."

Maddie focused on the feeling of his embrace, how good it felt to have him hold her so tightly.

"I'm really sorry," said Jack quietly. "I'm sorry I didn't take Danny's strange behavior these past few days as seriously as you did. I wasn't any help to you."

Maddie sighed. "Well, at least I've figured it out now. Now, we can focus on getting him help. We're going to have to do some research, figure out if there's a program we should put him in or if it'd be better to just have him meet with a therapist every week."

"Someone who specializes in substance abuse issues in teens?"

"Actually, I was thinking of something more than that, someone who specializes in anxiety and depression, too. What is it called, cognitive behavioral therapy?"

"We'll need to see what our insurance will cover."

"No, I don't want to claim this on insurance," said Maddie firmly. "He doesn't need that on his record. We can afford to pay for it out of pocket."

"That's true, we can."

"Yeah, I mean, if we can afford to spend so much on our inventions and research…" Maddie chewed the inside of her cheek. "We can certainly afford to get our son help without tarnishing his record."

Jack squeezed her. "Of course we can."

"And we'll probably want to go through his phone messages, e-mails, make sure he's not getting anything from anyone else either."

"Are we still going to give him his phone and computer back Thursday when he's no longer grounded?"

"I'm not sure about that. We might need to consult with someone about the best way to handle that because I honestly have no idea."

"And what about Sam? She's one of his best friends, but we can't have her help him get drugs anymore."

Maddie groaned. "I'm going to have to call Pam. I am  _not_  looking forward to that conversation. She already has such a low opinion of us. And Danny."

"It doesn't matter what she thinks of Danny," said Jack. "She has her own child to worry about. You and I will take care of ours." He put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her away just a little so that he could look into her eyes. "He's going to be okay."

They stood and moved to their closed bedroom door. Jack's arm was around Maddie as they just breathed together.

"Ready?" asked Maddie.

Jack nodded and opened their door.

-DP-

Danny sat on his bed in his room. In the dark, blinds closed so that not even moonlight could get in, finally alone. He still had to keep his door open, but this solitude was so much better than the constant supervision and invasion of privacy he had had to endure ever since he returned from the canyon with Maddie.

His parents had searched his entire room, had confiscated anything that they didn't want him having. His ghost-related items were still secretly stored in his wall, but he had managed to silently float up to his room while his parents conversed privately (although he was  _supposed_ to stay downstairs where Jazz was  _supposed_  to keep an eye on him) and at least put his stored narcotics somewhere they could easily be reached. He had already confessed to having them, so it would be better to just let them be found.

Of course, he didn't hand over  _all_  of his narcotics. He had to keep some, right? In his line of work, injuries were certainly not uncommon.

For the remainder of the day, it was nothing but talking and questions and treatment plans and concerns and silent nodding and letting them say and do whatever they wanted because he had to give up this control. If he wanted to keep his real secret concealed, then he had to just accept this turn of events. They kept him in their sight at all times, exchanged glances that they thought he wouldn't notice but of course he noticed everything. He knew what they were thinking, that he was something to be pitied, a poor wayward teen who needed help, a mentally ill addict who felt he had to turn to drugs to fix his problems and so needed to be assured that there were other healthier ways to deal with his problems, really!

He had managed to break away from all of that attention for a moment, a half hour of blissful isolation. He had already showered that morning, but his parents graciously allowed him to shower again at his request just so he could get away from them.

In that small block of time he had to himself, he had never cried so hard in his life.

But now, finally alone again in the darkness of his room, there were no tears or even any feelings at all. He felt empty, so drained and exhausted from the events of the day that there was nothing left for him to feel anymore.

So much better.

A soft knock against his door. Danny looked up in dread, fearing that he would see his mother.

"Can I talk to you, Danny?" asked Jazz in a whisper. "Mom and Dad are both in their room."

Danny stood and moved to his window. He opened his blinds so that he could survey the part of the town he could see from there. "I'm glad you're here, actually. I need you to tell Sam and Tucker about what happened today since I won't be seeing them until Monday. Sam especially needs to know. Tell her that I'm really sorry for getting her in trouble like this. I don't know when Mom plans on calling her parents, but I just want her to know ahead of time so she can be prepared."

"Uh, okay—"

"I also need you to tell them to let you know if there are any ghost threats I need to take care of. Tell Tucker to hack into Vlad's security cameras he has set up around the town."

"Ah, wait—"

"Tell them that I'll only go out and take care of ghosts that pose a real threat. I won't resume my normal patrol until Thursday when I'm no longer grounded."

"Danny, wait—"

"Until then, I'm going to work on mastering duplicating myself." Business as usual. Danny didn't even look at Jazz as he spoke. "Maybe I'll be able to do it well enough by Thursday, but if not, the Ghost Catcher will have to do. I mean, splitting myself in half is not ideal, but I can't let Mom and Dad catch me out of my room again."

"Danny!" hissed Jazz. She was right behind him now, but Danny still faced away from her as he stared out his window. "Are you really going to go on keeping this a secret from them? From Mom?"

"Oh, right," said Danny evenly. "Tell Sam and Tucker that I changed my mind and decided not to tell her after all."

"So you  _were_  going to tell her?"

"I was. Not anymore."

"Why not?"

"I've just changed my mind. I think it's better for her to not know."

"How can it possibly be better for her to not know? You really think she's just going to leave it at you having a drug problem? You don't think she's going to try to figure out what underlying problem caused this dependency on painkillers in the first place?"

"I'll come up with something. I'll just say I've been really depressed which has given me a lot of headaches. Or that I read somewhere that painkillers can help with depression. Whatever she'll believe."

"She's going to put you through treatment that won't even be tackling the real issue. It won't help you at all, not when you're going to be lying about what's really brought you to this point."

"This point? What are you talking about?" Danny finally turned his head to look back at her. "I don't need help. I don't need treatment. I'm just going to do this to get her off my back, to keep my real secret hidden."

"But why do you still want to keep it secret from her?"

"Because she doesn't deserve to know, Jazz!" snapped Danny. He turned and faced her squarely, her face visible just barely in the cold light from outside. "She thinks of me as an imitation that has no real feelings and that I'm just out protecting the town because I'm some narcissist who wants adoration and approval."

"Did she say that?"

"Yes." Danny's tone darkened. "And she wants nothing more than to strap me down and cut me open no matter how much I scream for her to stop. Because any pain I might feel wouldn't be real."

"But she wouldn't see you that way if she just knew—"

"What kind of excuse is that?" spat Danny. "Why can't she see that I'm still a person even if I am a ghost? Why does she have to know that I'm her son first to see that?" He paused, shut his eyes, opened them again. "If a great genius ghost researcher like her can't even see that Phantom is just as real a person as her own son, then she doesn't deserve to know."

"You can try to rationalize it however you want." Jazz's voice shook as she spoke. "But I know that you're just grasping for an excuse to not tell her. Because you're still afraid of her."

Danny made no reply, only looked at her with lidded eyes.

"But you can't keep doing this to yourself. Even if you lie and somehow manage to fool Mom into thinking that there really is nothing more to what's been going on, you will still always be afraid of her." Jazz choked on a sob. "And you'll keep being afraid of her unless you tell her. Is that really what you want, Danny? Do you want to be afraid of your own mother for the rest of your life?"

"Wow, that's such an exaggeration. The rest of my life, really?"

"Don't avoid my question. If you don't tell her, you'll never have a good relationship with her again."

"So the burden of fixing our relationship is all on me? Are you saying it's my fault that we're at this point?" He raised his hands and looked up briefly. "I mean, maybe you're right. Maybe it is all my fault. I shouldn't have entered our ghost portal. I should've told her right away when it happened. Maybe none of this would've happened. Maybe she would've been able to help me out."

Jazz swallowed and waited for him to continue.

"But what's done is done. I have to accept the consequences for the choices I've made." He looked down. "And if that means that I'll never feel safe around her again, then so be it."

"I don't agree. I can't support that," said Jazz bluntly. "Don't you see how much this is hurting you, Danny?"

"You're right. This hurt me." Danny's voice broke. "This destroyed me in ways that I didn't even know I was vulnerable." He looked at her with fierce focus. "But that doesn't mean I'm broken."

Frustrated tears streamed down Jazz's face. "Why do you insist on carrying on like this? Why do you keep doing this to yourself?"

"Because I'm not some delicate little lamb, Jazz," yelled Danny as loud as he dared. "I'm not some injured lost puppy that needs to be sheltered and coddled." He stared her down. "I'm not nearly as fragile as you seem to think I am."

"I didn't say you were—"

"I have taken on so many enemies, have fought and won so many battles that I've lost count. I survived a shock from our ghost portal, a shock that would've killed anyone else." He pointed to himself. "But I survived it. Because I'm not weak."

"I'm not saying you're weak," pleaded Jazz. "I can just see that you're struggling with this so much, and if you keep ignoring it and suppressing it like this—"

"Oh, you can see that, huh? And you think you know exactly what will fix all of my problems, huh?"

"Well, I mean, I've studied up a lot, you know—"

"You think you know me just because you've read some psychology books?" Danny scoffed. "You know nothing about me, Jazz. You don't know what it's like to be me or to what extent this has affected me. Please stop insulting me by insisting that you do."

Jazz gritted her teeth. "I'm not going to let you keep doing this to yourself. If you won't tell her, then I'll—"

"Jazz, I swear that if you tell her, I will never trust you again," said Danny in a low, serious voice. "I will never forgive you."

Jazz made no reply, only looked at him with eyes shining with tears.

"This is not your secret to tell, not your decision to make." Danny crossed his arms and glared at her. "Don't make me regret you discovering my secret anymore than I already do."

Her expression. So crestfallen and wounded.

He looked away and back out his window, unable to see her pained expression a moment longer. "Will you give those messages to Tucker and Sam for me?"

Danny heard her leave the room. He put his forehead against his window and breathed deeply, clutched at his sill until his knuckles turned white. He hated doing that to his sister, one of the few in his life who sincerely cared about him. He knew he had hurt her, but he also knew that hurting her was the only way he could get her to respect his wishes, the only way he could protect himself.

He glanced out his door. No one was there. He would have to listen carefully so that he could detect his mother coming down the hall.

But he had to do this, something he hadn't done since that night.

He focused and willed his molecules to change, felt their mortal and biological properties infuse with something not of this world. He looked down at his now gloved and glowing hands, ethereal wisps of ectoplasmic light pulsating around and within him.

His thought processes were already being taken over by his spectral neural oscillations, brainwaves that carried and transmitted messages of self-preservation. He had to figure out a way to continue protecting the town without telling his mother the truth. He had to figure out how to duplicate himself. He held out his hand and targeted its individual cells, mentally commanded them to split and replicate.

Not something a normal human could do. Certainly not.

But that didn't mean he was an imitation. That didn't mean that what he was feeling was artificial.

Could she ever believe that? Or would she always ignore his cries of pain?

-DP-

Maddie groggily checked the time on her bedside clock. Past three in the morning.

She should just go back to sleep.

She should, but…

She couldn't stop thinking about him.

No, not her son. Not this time.

Phantom.

Maddie closed her eyes. She still remembered so vividly the way his clasped hands shook on the back of his head, the sleek lines of his developing physique as he knelt with his back to her, the radiance of his eyes as he stared straight ahead with submissive solemnity, and the feel of his hair in her grasp, like snatching the fibers of the frostiest wind.

Now that she had finally solved the mystery of what was ailing her son, she could return to her ghost-related work and research. Perhaps not at the same capacity as before, not until Danny made some good progress with his treatment and recovery, but she could at least give it some focus again.

In particular, she wanted to focus on her most wanted ghost.

She couldn't sleep. Thoughts of him woke her completely, aroused her to a state of excitement that she simply had to rub out.

She climbed off of her bed, didn't bother trying to be quiet because Jack was far too heavy a sleeper anyway. She moved down the hall, glanced into Danny's room real quick to make sure he was still there.

He was there, sleeping, his handsome face faintly visible.

Safe at home.

Maddie smiled at the sight before moving on, down the stairs, down to their basement lab. She pulled out all of her notes on Phantom, photos and articles, anything and everything she had that pertained to the ghostly vigilante of Amity Park. She was going to find him. She was going to capture him. She was going to make him hers.

Next time, he wouldn't get away.

But she was going to have to be smarter next time. She had been fortunate to catch him by surprise before, but she couldn't rely on ever getting that lucky again. She had to study him more, had to go out more often at night and search for him.

And she had to be completely ready and focused. She had to be sure that all of her equipment was up to the task of this hunt.

She looked over her guns, her snares, her containment devices, her—

Maddie frowned as she looked at the vials containing her unique concoction, her powerful solution that prevented ghostly molecules from changing. Next to them were vials containing the reversing agent.

Except…

One of the vials that contained the cancelling agent was missing.

Puzzled, Maddie went through her notes just to make sure. Yes, she had carefully measured out a certain volume of each liquid, and she had definitely filled one more vial than what she was seeing here.

She put a loose fist to her mouth in thought. She looked around the room, her eyes falling on the ghost portal.

Phantom knew where they lived…

Phantom had experienced the effects of her molecule-halting solution before and would perhaps want a way to reverse it quickly if he were to ever be injected again…

Could he have come in and stolen this antidote from her? What other explanation could there be? She certainly hadn't done anything with it, and no one else in her family would have any reason to take it.

Maddie smiled despite herself. Phantom made for such a good chase. It was this sort of behavior that made him all the more alluring to her.

Making him her prisoner would be the ultimate pleasure.


	11. Chapter 11

"You ready to go, Jack?"

Maddie took one last look in the mirror next to the front door. She ran her fingers through her hair, checked for make-up smudges. She wanted to make a good impression on the therapist she and Jack had selected for Danny. She certainly didn't want him to think she was an unfit mother. She wanted to come across as presentable and caring and totally sane.

Jack appeared next to her. "What's that?" he asked curiously, pointing to the bag she was carrying.

Maddie looked down at the bag. It contained a Thermos, a small ecto-gun, and a dart gun ready to shoot her molecule-halting concoction she still hadn't named. "Ghost-hunting equipment."

Jack blinked. "Huh." He crossed his arms in thought. "And why are you bringing ghost-hunting equipment? Are you expecting something to happen?"

"No," said Maddie casually, "but I want to be prepared."

"Prepared?"

"For Phantom."

"Phantom," Jack echoed. "It's been a while since you've mentioned him."

"I haven't given up on him," said Maddie as she walked out the front door. "I've just been preoccupied with Danny's issues. But you know how elusive Phantom is. I'm tired of him always getting away or not being prepared when he does happen to show up. I'm not letting that happen again." She tapped her bag. "The hunt is on. I plan on going out more often at night, too."

"It really would be something to capture him," said Jack. "We could learn so much from him. And imagine all of the publicity and funding we'd get for future inventions. Our names would forever be in ghost textbooks."

"I don't care so much about glory," said Maddie. "This is all for the pursuit of knowledge."

"Don't lie to me. I know you want to gloat about it and stick it to everyone who told us we were crazy."

Maddie laughed. "Okay, you got me there."

The therapist's office was situated above a pizza restaurant. Jack's eyes were round and wide as they passed the entrance to the restaurant. "That smells way too good."

Maddie led him up the stairs to the offices above. "Don't get distracted, Jack."

"This place must have the best therapy ever. When you're done, you can get pizza! Or eat it before. Or during." Jack hummed to himself as he considered all the delicious possibilities.

"Well, you know our son," said Maddie. "He doesn't eat when he's nervous, so I doubt he'd even be tempted when he's here."

"I wish I had that problem." Jack patted his overweight belly a few times.

The therapist greeted both of them warmly. He was a young man with a head full of blond hair and quite the winning smile.

"Jack and Maddie Fenton, pleasure to meet you both. I'm Brandan Cross." He shook Jack's hand first, then Maddie's. "You're the one I spoke with on the phone, correct?" he asked while holding Maddie's hand.

"I am indeed." Maddie gave him her own best smile. She had seen his picture beforehand and knew he was handsome even before this moment, and although her heart was completely devoted to Jack, her naturally flirty nature always came out when in the presence of an attractive man.

Brandan instructed the couple to sit on a comfortable couch in his office while he sat in an office chair across from them. He began by introducing himself and his work as a child psychologist who specialized in depression, anxiety, and substance abuse in adolescents in addition to a number of other areas. Maddie listened intently, nodding and noting his credentials.

And then Brandan asked them to talk about themselves. Jack happily rambled about himself and how much he adored his wife. Maddie blushed both from embarrassment and flattery.

"Ghost research." Brandan sounded intrigued when Jack brought this up. "That's right. You two are the resident ghost experts of Amity Park. How is that going? Any progress on a plan to eliminate the ghosts here altogether?"

"We're working on it," said Jack, "although Maddie's particularly set on one ghost."

Maddie elbowed him. "Jack!"

"Well, it's true! You even brought that ghost hunting bag into this office."

Maddie looked down at the bag on the floor by her legs. "I just want to be prepared."

Brandan frowned just a little as he noted the bag. "What ghost are we talking about?"

"The ghost kid," said Jack.

"Danny Phantom, you mean?" Like everyone else in town, Brandan seemed to know exactly who this was. "Same first name as your son." He leaned forward and pressed his fingertips together. "And speaking of your son, let's talk about him now. We talked a little about him on the phone, but I of course want to know more before I see him this afternoon. He's in school right now, correct?"

"Right." Maddie decided to take the initiative, not sure if Jack would be able to adequately describe their son's issues. "He's a sophomore, fifteen, almost sixteen."

"Tough age," said Brandan. "But also an exciting one. Is he close to getting his driver's license, then?"

"Um, well…" Maddie hesitated. "He doesn't really like driving. He rarely wants to practice. I have to force him to do it, usually." She glanced at Jack. "You see, Danny is…well, like I told you over the phone, he has a lot of anxiety and insecurities. And I think driving really heightens that."

"That's not uncommon for someone with anxiety," said Brandan.

"But he really is a good kid. Jack and I couldn't have asked for a better son, really. He's mild-mannered, obedient, polite." Maddie smiled fondly to herself. "He was always such a sweetheart when he was little, and that hasn't really changed now that he's a teenager, honestly." Her smiled faltered. "But he's also always been pretty sensitive. He always hated to get in trouble, was the kind of person to blame himself for anything that went wrong, or he'd just internalize every little mistake he made and obsess over it until he fixed it."

Brandan made a note on his notepad but did not say anything.

"But he still did okay in school. He still had some friends. He seemed happy." She paused. "Until he started high school. And then things seemed to change with him."

"High school can have that effect," said Brandan with a small smile.

Maddie returned the smile and continued with her narrative of Danny, of how his grades started slipping and how he started being late to classes or even skipping classes altogether, something he had never done before. His problems with bullies and how he seemed to only ever hang out with just his two best friends Sam and Tucker and no others even though he used to hang out with other friends at least sometimes. His fatigue at odd times of the day or his restlessness at night. The way he always looked so tired in the morning at breakfast, as if he never got enough sleep.

And how secretive he suddenly was when he used to be fairly open with her and Jack about everything.

"Admittedly, Jack and I were not as attentive to Danny as we should've been." Maddie looked down at her lap in shame. "Neither one of us wanted to believe that there was anything wrong at all, I suppose."

"And that's why I want to meet with you two regularly as well," said Brandan. "As his parents, you two are going to have a great influence on the success of his treatment, especially while he's still living with you."

"Of course," said Maddie with a glance at Jack. "We'll do anything."

"So, you've talked a lot about reasons for his possible anxiety and depression. Can you tell me about his use of analgesics?"

Maddie sighed deeply. "Truthfully, I don't know a whole lot about it. I don't know when it started or even why it started. He only just confirmed it for me two days ago. I'm still surprised you could fit us in so quickly."

"Mondays aren't usually that busy for me," explained Brandan.

"Anyway, I just didn't want to pressure him too much into telling me." She looked at Brandan worriedly. "Was that the wrong thing to do? Should I have made him tell me?"

"Might not have done much good," said Brandan. "It's probably a good idea to build a level of trust so that he'll be more comfortable talking about it."

"Well, we're hoping you can help with that," said Maddie. "Maybe if he had someone other than his parents to talk to, he'd be more willing to open up."

"That can help, yes."

Maddie continued by describing how Danny had snuck out one night to see Sam and didn't return until after one in the morning. Immediately after that, he had a noticeable change in demeanor, unusually avoidant and agitated. After a tip from Sam's mother, it didn't take her long to conclude that Danny was taking far more painkillers than was reasonable or even safe for him to take.

"He finally confessed to me that he had gone to see his friend Sam to get narcotics," said Maddie. "You see, he's just not the type to sneak out just to be rebellious or to fool around, and especially with the way he was acting, I was sure there was more to it."

"I see," said Brandan. "And you don't know how long this has been going on? Was that his first time sneaking out?"

"First time that we know of," said Jack.

"Right. I mean, I don't usually check on him in the middle of the night. That was kind of a coincidence," said Maddie.

Brandan nodded and made several notes on his notepad.

"Listen, can you tell us what you think is best for Danny?" asked Maddie. "Jack and I have no idea, and I just want to be sure we're doing the right thing. Do you think we should put him in a program?"

"That depends on how we think he'd do in a program," said Brandan. "A program can be effective, but he'd be with other teens struggling with substance abuse, and often, those kids can be pretty rough." Brandan sucked his teeth, as if recalling his memories of working in such programs. "So, it depends on how deep his apparent addiction is, how open he is to treatment, and how he would fare with other teens in that program when he is as sensitive as you claim he is." He made another note. "I think a detox treatment should definitely be done, and I would also suggest a physical and blood work to see if he has any hormonal imbalances that could be factoring in. But aside from therapy, he might not need a full program. If you'd like, I can give you a recommendation when I meet with him this afternoon."

"That'd be great," said Maddie. "Thank you."

"What do you think we should do about his friends?" asked Jack. "In particular, his friend Sam who has been giving him the narcotics in the first place. Should we allow him to keep hanging out with her, or…?"

"That's difficult for me to say right now," said Brandan. "But I would caution against letting them be alone together at her house. Or alone anywhere, really. Truthfully, you're going to want to have someone keeping an eye on him at all times for a while."

"What about his phone, then?" asked Jack. "I mean, we took it away as punishment for sneaking out, but do you think we should continue to keep it from him?"

"We don't want to completely cut off his social life," said Brandan. "But you should definitely monitor his phone and computer activity. But let him know. Don't keep it secret from him. Be stricter at first, maybe have him give you his phone at night and look through his messages daily, but as his treatment progresses, you can be more lenient. Again, I can give recommendations and guide you through that as I continue meeting with all of you."

"So we should look through his messages?" clarified Maddie.

"He's going to hate it," said Brandan. "No one likes such invasion of privacy. But he can choose to not use his phone or social media accounts at all if he doesn't want you reading his messages."

"We actually did look through his phone messages and e-mails Saturday," said Jack thoughtfully. "After we found out what was going on. But we didn't find any noteworthy messages."

"Right," said Maddie. "Not even one to Sam about going to her house Wednesday night."

"And there's no way he had time to delete them because we kind of caught him off-guard when we took his phone and computer," said Jack. He thought for a moment. "Although I guess it's possible that he anticipated us doing that and only pretended to be so surprised."

"It's certainly possible," replied Brandan, "but teens are pretty resourceful nowadays. There are texting apps that are disguised as something else for the sole purpose of keeping conversations hidden from snooping parents."

Maddie and Jack exchanged glances. "You think he could be using an app like that?" asked Maddie.

"I can't say for sure," said Brandan, "but if you weren't able to find anything in his messages, it's a strong possibility."

Maddie mulled this over. Could Danny really be that secretive? Could he have really gone that far just to keep this from her? And if that were true, was there anything else he was keeping from her? She had managed to convince herself that this was it, that she had solved the mystery of why he had snuck out and why he had been struggling so much since beginning high school, but what if that wasn't all there was?

Maddie leaned over and rested her head in her hands.

"Maddie?" Jack put a hand on her back.

"What's on your mind, Maddie?" asked Brandan with a practiced therapist's tone.

"I'm just…afraid." Maddie kept her head down as she spoke. "I'm afraid of what more we might find out, of what this will do to him or our relationship with him."

"You clearly love him a lot," said Brandan softly. "Based on what you've told me about him, I'm sure he'll feel that."

Maddie raised her head and blinked back tears as she looked up at the ceiling. "I really don't want to do this to him. I don't want to put him through this."

Jack put his arm around her.

"No parent wants to see her child suffer," said Brandan. "And this will be a difficult process for him." He leaned forward. "But at least you care enough to get him help. Do you have any idea how many parents don't care about their children at all? How many teens with drug issues the state ends up having to take away from their homes because their parents are unable or unwilling to help them overcome their addictions?"

Maddie sniffled and smiled but did not say anything.

Brandan handed her a box of tissues. "And listen, be sure to not make him feel like therapy is a terrible thing meant only for those really screwed-up in the head." He chuckled. "Everyone on this planet needs therapy for something, honestly. Even I have a colleague I talk with sometimes."

Maddie considered this, wondered what she herself needed therapy for. She had never given much thought to her own mental and emotional health. Was there indeed some personal problem she should be talking to an expert about?

Well, she couldn't think about herself now. Her son came first. As long as he was well and healthy, she was sure she'd be just fine.

She glanced down at the bag by her feet.

And if she could just capture Phantom, she'd be the happiest scientist in the world.

"I like him," said Jack as he drove home with Maddie in the passenger seat. "Nice guy. I think Danny will respond well to him."

"I think so, too," said Maddie. She groaned. "But now I need to call Pam. I can't keep putting that off."

"Danny and Sam are such good friends," said Jack. "Knowing Pam, she's not going to want Danny anywhere near her daughter after you tell her."

"Well, her daughter isn't completely innocent here," retorted Maddie bitterly. "She's been enabling this drug habit of Danny's, and who knows? Maybe she's dabbling in drugs herself."

"We shouldn't be speculating on that," said Jack gently.

"I know. You're right." Maddie put a hand to her head. "I just hate giving Pam yet another reason to look down her nose at us."

"She would've found another reason all on her own," said Jack with a smirk.

"We also need to talk with Jazz."

"About Danny's treatment?"

"Yes, but also…" Maddie bit her lip. "I didn't tell you, but when I tried asking Jazz about Danny possibly abusing painkillers, she actually tried to pretend that she was the one taking them." She looked at Jack. "That's odd, right? Why would she do that?"

"That  _is_  odd," agreed Jack. "As if she already knew but wanted to protect him."

"And that just doesn't seem like her. She was always so keen to analyze Danny and wouldn't hesitate to get him in trouble if she was aware he was doing something he shouldn't."

"I agree. That is strange." Jack tapped the steering wheel a couple times. "We're likely going to discover a lot of new things about our kids."

Maddie nodded and leaned back in her seat, looked straight ahead at the road. She couldn't help but be afraid to learn just what she didn't know about her children, especially Danny.

But she'd be sure to keep their family together no matter what secrets were revealed.

-DP-

During Lancer's boring lecture on who even had any idea what, Danny flexed and massaged his aching arm underneath his desk. He had spent a couple hours the past two nights trying to duplicate himself, but he had the most difficult time just getting his arm to divide.

And the effects of so much splitting and tearing for hours were really starting to make themselves known. His whole arm felt like it had been shot with a dose of tetanus, locked up and heavy and so irritatingly sore.

Yes,  _irritatingly_. He really did not have time for this. He had to figure out how to duplicate himself as soon as possible (why was it so damn hard?), and all of this pain was just getting in his way.

But he hadn't taken anything for the pain. No medication at all, not even the narcotics he still had hidden in his wall. See? He didn't have an addiction. He could stop himself when he wanted to. Sure, it had been tempting as hell, but the point was that he did resist. He could handle pain. He didn't have to resort to numbing it with meds.

Although they really did work so quickly and effectively and prevented him from dreaming when he slept which was always a plus especially since lately his dreams were all nightmares.

"Danny, you okay?" asked Tucker in a hushed voice as he turned around to face him and Sam. Lancer had instructed them to work on their group reports, and as usual, the three friends were working together.

"Fine." Danny lifted his arm, stretched it out one last time, and then picked up his pencil. "I just wish I had tried duplicating my left arm instead. That was stupid of me."

"I don't remember you being sore after trying to duplicate before," said Sam curiously.

"I never tried for hours at a time before," replied Danny. "I guess it's kind of like how you get sore after working out, you know? It won't hurt once I finally get it, I'm sure."

"And you will get it," said Tucker. "Don't stress over it."

Don't stress. Don't be so glum. Don't worry. Can't you be happy again, Danny?

Impossible requests. How could he possibly feel anything other than these negative feelings ever again? All of this frustration and agitation and consternation—

He winced as he tried to write something.

—and God all of this goddamned pain that he could not even take anything for without being accused of being an addict by even his own sister!

"Danny?" questioned Sam with concern.

"I'm fine. Seriously, don't worry about me."

"Have you taken anything for it?" asked Sam hesitantly.

Danny eyed her warily, noting her uneasy tone. "No. Why do you ask?"

Sam glanced at Tucker. "Well, you know, just considering all that's happened. Your parents thinking you have a…well, you know."

"Do  _you_  think I have a drug problem?" Danny asked pointedly. If his best friends were going to do this to him as well, he might as well know exactly what they were thinking.

Sam fell quiet and leaned back a little.

"We know what you go through," said Tucker. "We know that you get hurt a lot. But I guess even we had no idea that you were taking enough pain medication for your parents to actually conclude you have a problem."

"What are you trying to say?"

"We're just…" Sam sighed. "Listen, just promise me that you're only using those narcotics I gave you for severe pain."

"I already promised you that."

"Danny, please. I don't mind getting in trouble for giving them to you—that was fully my decision—but maybe…maybe you should talk to Jazz before you take them from now on? Maybe we can all make that call together."

"Are you kidding me right now?" cried Danny. Several heads in the class turned in their direction. Danny leaned in closer to Sam and hissed in a low whisper, "I don't need you to tell me if I'm in pain or not."

"We know, but—"

"And how would you even know? How could you possibly decide if my pain is bad enough or not when you're  _not_  me?"

"Dude, Danny, chill," whispered Tucker quickly, raising his hands to make peace. "Sorry, okay? We're just worried about this whole thing."

Danny glared at Tucker. These two were as bad as his sister, making judgments they had no grounds to make and having the audacity to think they could understand his level of pain when they could never even begin to understand all the while insisting that it was just because they were his dear friends who just cared about him way too much to let him keep hurting himself.

Danny sat back in his seat. "Well, you don't even have to worry about it because I gave all the narcotics to my parents," he said quietly while keeping his gaze lowered to his desk.

Sam and Tucker said nothing. Did they know he was lying?

He decided to change the subject. "How has monitoring the town been going?"

"Great. We haven't seen any serious threats yet," said Tucker. "Sam and I watched together last night for a little while."

Sam smirked. "Yeah, and Tucker spent way more time than he needed to checking out Ember."

"Hey, she's one of Danny's most capable enemies!"

"She was just looking at some records in a music store."

"She could've been up to something. Maybe she wanted to write over them with her hypnotic music."

"She doesn't even need to sing to hypnotize  _you_. She had you totally transfixed."

"Okay, I admit it. She's hot, all right? You got me." Tucker held up his hands. "I mean,  _wow_ , she is  _really_ hot. Like, li—"

"You say 'literally,' and I will deck you," said Sam.

Tucker huffed. "I highly doubt that. Not while we're in class."

Sam rested her chin on her hands. "Try me, tech-boy."

The corners of Danny's mouth were twitching and begging to move upwards. He coughed and looked down, refocused on the pain in his arm because that was the only thing that was real now and the only thing he should be thinking about because everything that had happened this past week was horrible and there was no way he could find anything to be happy about right now.

He tried to write something down, but a spasm in his wrist caused him to yelp before he could stop himself.

Sam's hands wrapped around his sore arm. She gently massaged it. "How's that?" she asked.

Danny blushed at her touch, her soothing rubbing and squeezing motions. "Um…good."

If only she could touch other parts of him like that—

Danny pulled his arm away. Sam had a gift for sending his mind straight to the gutter quicker than any other girl he had ever had an interest in, and he  _really_  didn't want to do that to himself right now. "Ah, um, we should really get to work on this project."

"Yeah, well, I don't think you're going to be much help if you can't write anything." Sam sighed. "I guess it's all up to me once again."

"You're the best, Sam. We'd be lost without you," said Tucker.

"Yeah, yeah, I know."

"But Danny, if trying to duplicate yourself really hurts that much, then maybe you should give it a rest? Or maybe only try for half an hour?" asked Tucker.

"I have to get it by Thursday. It's either that or…" Danny groaned.

"The Fenton Ghost Catcher?" Tucker grinned. "It totally works. You're still more than capable of fighting ghosts even when you're split in half."

"Yeah, but I don't like keeping the humanity out of my ghost side." Danny lowered his voice. "I mean, that's what led to…you know." He didn't want to say it, to bring up the possibility of his dark future and ultimate enemy right here.

"It would just be temporary," said Sam. "You'll get the hang of duplicating soon enough, I'm sure."

"But until then, if you have to use the Ghost Catcher…" Tucker shot a mischievous look at Sam.

"What?" asked Sam.

Tucker gleefully grinned. "I call the Fun Danny!"

Sam's jaw dropped with a disbelieving gasp. "No way, you got him last time!"

"And I get him next time, too."

"That's not fair, you jerk!"

The two continued their playful argument. Danny's mouth once again twitched, and he could feel himself shaking.

But no, he couldn't feel this way. Such a feeling would betray everything that had happened, would make light of something that really was terrible and awful and unfair.

He couldn't laugh. He couldn't feel joy. Not with all this pain he knew he had to keep enduring just living in the same house as his mother who unknowingly kept inflicting the worst pain on him he had ever felt. It made no sense to be happy now. It would negate everything and reduce its significance and it was all  _way_  too big a deal for him to just laugh now.

But why was he thinking that? Why was he giving his negative feelings so much control? Who said he couldn't laugh right now if he wanted to?

He was giving  _her_  too much control. She still had him down on his knees. She still had him feeling so powerless and frightened. She was still holding a gun to his head and threatening to shoot him if he even dared to feel anything but the emasculation she wanted him to feel.

And he was really sick of it.

Tucker and Sam were still bickering about laying claim to his "fun" side.

That was just too hilarious.

He couldn't hold back any longer. He broke into uncontrollable laughter that began quiet and grew louder. Sam and Tucker stopped their jocular quarrel and stared at him in stunned silence.

His abdomen was tensing and seizing. His cheeks were hurting from being stretched so far.

But this kind of pain just felt so  _good_  for once. And as he reveled in this feeling that he hadn't felt in way too long, the elation and hilarity of it all only increased.

"Dude, Fenton, what the hell is wrong with you?" demanded Dash from across the room.

He couldn't reply. He couldn't talk at all. He could barely pull in enough air as tears streamed down his face.

"Mr. Fenton," said the drawling voice of Lancer. He approached and stood right next to Danny. "What is so funny that you have to disrupt my class with such incessant laughter?"

Danny gulped in air and tried to answer. "It's actually—it's not—really not that funny at all—but—" He broke into another fit of laughter but quelled it with deep breathing. "But doesn't it just feel  _so_  good to laugh?" He swept his fingers over his eyes that were still tearing up. "It does. It really does. Oh, my God, it's the best."

He calmed a little, his hearty laughter turning into chuckles. Lancer was still beside him, but to Danny's surprise as he looked up at his teacher, the older man was smiling.

"Well," Lancer began with a warm tone, "it's certainly an improvement, I suppose, considering how mopey you were the end of last week."

"Oh." Danny's eyes fell a little. "You noticed that?"

"Of course I noticed." Lancer put an amicable hand on his shoulder. "I've been your teacher for nearly two years now." He used a single finger to gesture to the three friends. "I'm glad you're feeling good again, but do you think you can get back to work now?"

Danny smiled and nodded. He turned to Sam and Tucker as Lancer walked away. They stared at him curiously with smiles of their own.

"What?" asked Danny sheepishly.

"Lancer's right," said Sam. "It's nice to see you happy again."

"Yeah. We were both really starting to worry about you," said Tucker.

"It's nice to feel happy again." He thought about having to go home later, about having to be with his mother in just a few hours. "Even if it doesn't last long."

"But you can feel it again," assured Sam. "And you can feel it for longer."

"This will all be in the past someday," said Tucker. "And we'll help you get past this so you can be happy all the time again."

Happy again?

All the time?

Danny smiled to himself as he considered this. Just minutes before, that had seemed like an impossibility, but now, he felt something he hadn't in a while.

Hope. Hope for his future, hope for a time when this would all be over and everything would be okay and he wouldn't feel so much anxiety and depression and pain.

She didn't want him to feel hope. She wanted him to be afraid of her.

But he couldn't keep giving her such control over him. He had to take back his power.


	12. Chapter 12

Danny walked behind Jazz through the front door of their house still feeling fairly light and happy. The weather seemed nicer. Colors seemed more vivid. Music sounded good again and not like a jumble of irritating noises.

And food tasted great, too. He had practically inhaled his lunch that day but not too quickly because he wanted to enjoy its savory flavorful excellence because he wasn't sure anything had ever tasted as good as that cafeteria cuisine.

"You seem to be in a really good mood," Jazz had noted on the drive home.

"You sure it's not an  _affectation_?" Danny asked playfully.

Jazz shook her head with a smirk. "Yup, there's my normal bratty little brother." Without taking her eyes off the road, she reached over and placed a hand on his thigh. "But really, it's nice to see you like this again."

And it was so nice to feel this way again. He could pretend that nothing was wrong now, that he wasn't grounded and that he hadn't been almost killed by his mother—

_HEY you're not supposed to think about that come on_

And his arm still hurt like hell but it was manageable and he definitely didn't need to take anything for it because he did NOT have a drug problem he had just been going through a phase totally understandable considering what had happened so he was just fine and he was going to get through this.

"Danny! Jazz! That you?" asked Maddie from the kitchen.

"Yes," replied Jazz as she and Danny set down their school bags in the entryway.

Maddie appeared with far more make-up than she usually wore. Danny couldn't help but stare at her in confusion. Why was she looking so dolled-up? Seeing her like this for no apparent reason was strange, baffling even. Sure, he had always known his mother was an attractive woman possessing the kind of beauty that could bring men to their knees—

—she had certainly brought  _him_  to his knees—

—dear God hell no he did  _not_  just make that connection because even if he was in a good mood that joke could never not be sick and disgusting and—

ANYWAY…

He couldn't blame Vlad for still wanting her even after all these years.

Maddie apparently noticed the way he was staring at her. "What is it, Danny?"

Danny reddened. "Um…nothing. You just look nice."

"Well, thank you, sweetie."

She gently caressed the side of his face. Danny forced himself to allow her to touch him.

"You get your good looks from me, you know," said Maddie. She looked at Jazz with a secret smile. "Both of you do."

Danny and Jazz exchanged bewildered glances.

"And what about from me?" asked Jack suddenly, appearing in the kitchen entryway and wearing a jocular pout.

Maddie turned to him in slight embarrassment. "Oh, of course they get their looks from you, too."

"Aw, you don't have to say that. I completely agree that you've got the looks." He pulled Maddie in for a kiss, then flexed an arm. "But I've got the brawn."

"Well, Danny's certainly been bulking up quite a bit lately," observed Maddie, turning to look back at her son. "He probably does get that from you."

"Of course he does!" said Jack enthusiastically, also looking at Danny with pride.

Well, didn't this just seem normal? His parents embarrassing him in the way only parents could.

Yes, indeed. This all felt so wonderfully normal.

And he liked it. He had missed this.

He smiled to himself as he followed his parents into the kitchen.

"I have some spinach and artichoke dip here if you'd like a quick snack before we go, Danny," said Maddie. "We're leaving in half an hour."

Danny's smile faltered. He vaguely recalled the conversation from breakfast that morning. Where had she said she would be taking him after school?

Maddie creased her brow when he didn't reply. "You're meeting your therapist today. Remember?"

o…..h….

Danny forced his smile to return. "Right. Of course." All right, fine. No, he didn't want to talk to a therapist, but he wasn't about to let this ruin his good mood. This was the plan, after all: pretend he needed counseling for a drug addiction, go along with it as compliantly and obediently as possible, and by the end of it all, his ghostly identity would still be protected, his parents would no longer be so worried about him, and everything would be just as it was again.

Maddie pushed a bowl of dip toward him along with a bag of wheat wafers. "You like these, don't you?"

"I do." He definitely did. But his appetite seemed to have diminished. Earlier, he had actually been thinking about what he would eat as soon as he came in the door, but now, the desire was weirdly gone.

NO! He was in charge of his feelings. He was feeling good again. That was the decision he was making, and he wasn't about to let his nerves take that from him.

He reached for a snack cracker with his right hand, winced, decided to use his left instead.

"Your arm okay, Danny?" asked Maddie with concern.

"Yeah, fine," said Danny as casually as he could.

Don't think about the pain. Don't think about therapy. Don't think about anything bad. Just keep calm and keep lying.

When it was at last time to leave, Danny noted the unfamiliar bag his mother was carrying.

"What's that?" he asked curiously.

"Oh. Just some ghost-hunting equipment." Maddie put a hand on Danny's back and guided him outside. "I just want to be prepared no matter where I go."

"Prepared for what?" asked Danny uneasily.

"For catching Phantom," Maddie answered in something of a singsong voice.

…a…..h…..

His good mood was slipping from him.

NO! He was still in control. He already knew she wanted to capture Phantom and hold him down and violate him—

NO!

He already knew that. Nothing new. He could still be happy because he wasn't going to ever let her capture him anyway. That particular nightmare would never play out.

And she would never know. He would see to that now by going along with this therapy and hiding his real secret under yet another layer of lies.

"You'll like this therapist, Danny," said Maddie as she drove.

"Oh?" Danny tried his best to sound interested. He had to do whatever he could to sell this I'm-totally-willing-and-wanting-to-beat-this-drug-problem-yes-ma'am-thank-you façade.

"He knows his stuff, and he's got this really nice full head of fluffy blond hair. He looks like he came straight from the eighties." Maddie sighed dreamily.

Danny eyed his mother warily as she continued driving lost in a reverie. "So…that's why I'll like him? Because he has nice hair?"

Maddie blushed. "Oh, uh…" She chuckled nervously. "He's just a really nice guy. Approachable. Knowledgeable. Easy to talk to. Suave." She sighed again.

Danny smirked to himself but resisted the urge to laugh. "You're still in love with Dad, right?"

"Oh, my God, of  _course_  I'm still in love with your father," said Maddie, putting a hand to her chest. "Nothing could ever change that. He's my best friend."

Danny smiled at the sincerity of her response.

When Maddie parked the car, Danny got out and looked around in confusion. "Wait, why are we at a pizza restaurant?"

Maddie laughed and pointed to a set of stairs. "His office is up there." She started leading him. "If you want, I could buy you some pizza after we're all done here."

Danny could hear something like hope in her tone, like she wanted to buy him something to eat.

"Um…yeah, sure," Danny said.

Maddie happily patted his shoulder.

In the waiting area, the therapist came out to greet them. "Maddie, hello again!"

"Long time no see, right?" Maddie's voice was higher pitched than usual, almost girlishly so.

Danny stared at the therapist. Despite his mother's description, he had still been expecting some stuffed shirt tweedy spectacled middle-aged shrink, but this guy…this guy was young and tall and fit and muscled and tanned and yes, blond. So very blond.

Now he knew why his mother was so gussied up.

"Danny." The man extended a hand, and Danny automatically took it. "I'm Brandan Cross. Great to meet you."

"Good to meet you, too," Danny managed to get out with practiced geniality.

"I'll wait out here," said Maddie, taking a seat on one of the sofas in the waiting area. She gave Danny a small wave.

Danny found himself waving back without thinking. He looked at his hand in amusement.

In his office, the therapist instructed Danny to take a seat on an admittedly comfortable couch. The therapist took a seat in an office chair and moved in so that he was at a polite distance from Danny.

Danny waited for the therapist to say something first. He himself certainly had no idea what to say.

"How's the temperature?" the therapist asked. "Too cold? Hot? Let me know. I can change it."

"It's good," said Danny simply.

The therapist nodded and paused for just a few noticeable seconds. "So, I guess we should get the awkward introductions out of the way. In case you've already forgotten, my name's Brandan."

"Is that what I should call you?" asked Danny. "Not Dr. something? Cross, was it?"

"No, no. Just Brandan, please. Mostly because I'm not a doctor, but also because I think it's better to be on a first name basis with my clients, even my young ones." Brandan raised a playful brow. "You're not used to calling adults by their first names, are you?"

"No. I guess not." The idea did seem kind of strange to Danny. He tried to think of all of the adults in his life. The only one he referred to by first name was Vlad, and that was because he had absolutely no respect at all for that crazed-up Froot Loop.

"Your parents taught you well," observed Brandan. "You've probably been raised to give more respect to those older than you, right?"

"Yes."

A short silence. Danny waited for Brandan to begin the real therapy.

"Well, Danny," began Brandan, "I'm sensing that you're a little nervous."

Danny leaned back with a frown.

"And it's perfectly understandable. You've never done this before. You don't know what to expect." Brandan chuckled to himself. "Truthfully, I'm a little nervous, too."

Danny blinked but had no reply. Was this normal for a therapist to say?

"I'm always nervous the first time I meet a new client. I just want to be sure that we'll be a good fit, that my clients get what they want and need from me. But there's just no way for me to really know that until I get to know a client. So, yes, I'm nervous myself right now."

Hmm…okay? Danny simply looked at Brandan and waited for him to go on.

"So, here's how we'll start. I'll tell you a little about myself, and then I'll tell you about my approach, and then I'll tell you my one rule. You can ask me questions at any time. Sound good, Danny?"

"Sure," said Danny, though he wasn't sure he liked the way the therapist used his name so familiarly.

Brandan proceeded to tell Danny about his educational background, years of experience, and areas of expertise, making it clear that he specialized in treating depression, anxiety, and substance abuse in adolescents. And, well, didn't that just fit Danny to a T? But he swallowed his pride and let Brandan continue to subtly hint at his presupposed issues. He was resigned to accept this and pretend that he needed help.

"The technique I use is called cognitive behavioral therapy," Brandan was saying. "CBT for short. Have you heard of it?"

"Maybe from my sister. I don't know."

"Basically, I'm going to try to help you develop coping strategies and help you recognize and change any cognitive distortions—thinking errors—you might have. Truthfully, everyone has their own thinking errors. Even I do. But sometimes, we need a little more help to identify them, and only then can we start to correct them."

Danny wasn't sure what Brandan was trying to get at by admitting to having psychological issues of his own. Trying to come across as any normal flawed human being? But weren't therapists supposed to be perfectly emotionally stable so that they could properly treat the instabilities of their clients?

"I work on my own cognitive distortions all the time," said Brandan. "I'm not perfect at it, and I probably never will be. It's hard." He leaned forward a little. "But listen, Danny. It really is normal and nothing to be ashamed of. Really, all of these thinking errors just go to show how intelligent we as humans are."

Danny raised a brow.

"Here." Brandan turned and grabbed a calculator from the desk behind him. "See this calculator?"

"Yes."

"Would you say this is a simple or complex machine?"

Was this a trick question? "I guess I'd say it's simple."

"Right. How often do calculators break? How often do they malfunction?"

"Not very often, I guess. I mean, unless you drop them from a high height or spill water on them."

"But they don't typically just malfunction on their own, right?"

"Right." Where was this going? Danny had no idea.

Brandan replaced the calculator on his desk and pointed out a desktop computer. "All right, now what about computers? How often do they malfunction? How often do they break or slow down or crash?"

"Um…more often than a calculator?"

Brandan laughed. "Way more often. Sometimes for seemingly no reason. It'll work fine one day, and then you try starting it up the next day, and for some reason the operating system has been wiped out. Or your browser will just crash. Or you'll get a Blue Screen of Death."

Danny pondered this, all of the technological mishaps in his ghost-fighting alone. The more advanced technology certainly could be fickle at times.

"The more complex something is, the easier it is for something to go wrong. When something is that complex, even the tiniest error can cause a complete meltdown." Brandan pointed to his head. "The human brain is the most complex machine there is, Danny, so complex that we still don't even fully understand it. It breaks down more easily and more frequently than any computer. The smallest error can drive us insane, the tiniest crack can shut us down. Depression and anxiety and a plethora of other mental issues are rampant in this world because our complexity makes us so susceptible to such problems. We try to look through the coding, try to fix the bugs with medication or logic, but so often we just end up creating more lines of errors."

Danny lowered his gaze as he considered this analogy.

"Even the smallest change to something in our physiology or psychology can have huge effects on our perception and well-being. The smallest error can completely overtake us. And the big changes? Those can prevent us from ever going back to how we used to be."

A change to his DNA, a jolting shock from his parents' ghost portal that changed his molecules. Just how much had that changed him? Not just the physiological changes like his powers and appearance, but the mental and emotional ones? The new confidence and pride and strength but also the new stress and worry and fear? This one mutation, this one error in his chemical make-up had indeed overtaken him. He couldn't look at people the same way anymore. He was not the same trusting person he was before. Anyone and everyone could have ulterior motives. Anyone and everyone could just be wanting to use him.

And all this pain? Like this pain in his arm? That was all just a result of this one change to his system, right? He never used to feel this much pain before, physically or mentally. He now so often felt like he was hurting in some way and that he needed something stronger and stronger to clear it up because he was getting hurt more and more frequently and severely as he faced off against increasingly powerful enemies and—

Whoa  _ho_ , what? How was this guy getting him to think so deeply?

"Does that make sense, Danny?" asked Brandan.

Danny nodded. "I think so, yeah."

Brandan reached for a pen and notepad from his desk. "I'd like to give you an opportunity to talk now. Do you have any questions? Is there something you'd like to say?"

"Um…I don't know." Danny looked down and crossed his arms. "I don't know what I should be saying, I guess."

"That's quite all right," said Brandan. "I don't mind steering our conversation. I just have one rule, okay?"

Danny looked up and waited.

"It's a rule I adhere to strictly myself, and I just ask that you do the same." Brandan paused. "Whatever you say, I need you to be one hundred percent honest. You are more than welcome to decline to answer a question. You don't have to confide something in me if you don't want to. I will never force you to speak. But Danny, if you do choose to speak or answer a question, whatever you say must be the truth." Brandan looked at him seriously. "Okay?"

Danny frowned. "How will you know if I'm telling the truth?"

"I'm going to trust you," said Brandan. "And like I said, if you don't want to tell me something, that is absolutely fine. Just tell me that you'd rather not answer. I won't pressure you, and I won't judge you. But I'd rather you not answer than lie."

Danny made no reply.

"I don't expect you to be an open book. It's not my goal to make you tell me absolutely everything that is troubling you. My goal is to help you recognize your own personal thinking errors that are hurting you and help you find ways to overcome them so that they are no longer preventing you from being productive and happy."

He had been feeling happy just a little while ago. He didn't need therapy for that. He could figure it out on his own.

"And I want you to know that anything you say here will be kept confidential. I want you to feel safe here. I want you to know that whatever you tell me is not going to get to your parents or anyone else."

Danny looked at him skeptically.

"I've already talked about terms of disclosure with your parents, and they've agreed to only get general reports about your progress and well-being. Any personal or specific things we talk about here will be strictly kept between you and me." Brandan raised his right hand. "You have my word."

"Okay," said Danny, unsure how else to respond. This guy was an unnerving enigma to him. How to interpret him? He was nothing like what Danny thought a therapist would be like. Intelligent and composed, stylish and modern, attractive and youthful, down-to-earth and just so  _human_.

But perhaps the most unsettling thing to Danny was that he could not discern what was really going on in Brandan's head. After about a year and a half of ghost fighting, he had become pretty good at determining motives and trustworthiness and agendas from ghosts and humans alike, but he could not figure out what Brandan's game was here.

"Ultimately, my role here is that of a facilitator," said Brandan. "Your success is mostly dependent on you, Danny. If  _you_ want to improve, if  _you_  want to find healthy coping strategies, if  _you_  want to regulate your emotions, then you'll be able to. But you are the one who will have to put in the most effort here." Brandan raised his hands. "I'll do my best to help you. I will be right here for you when you need me. Your family and friends will be there for you, too. But you are in charge of any progress you make." Brandan smiled. "For many, that can be discouraging because so many just want their therapist to fix them. But really, Danny, it's quite empowering. You have control over how you approach the obstacles in your life. No one and no thing can bring you down unless you decide to let them bring you down. I'm just here to help you find the best ways to deal with your obstacles."

Oh, jeez. This guy.  _This_ guy.

Danny had to turn away. What even was this guy? Looking like some bronzed Greek god from a George Michael music video and making him think this much? Making him think that hmm maybe he  _could_  use some therapy after all and maybe this guy could help him out somehow?

"Danny?"

"Hmm?"

"What's on your mind?"

Danny turned back to face Brandan. "Um…nothing."

"Danny, you need to be honest with me," Brandan reminded him somewhat sharply.

Danny flinched at the disapproving tone. "Fine. I'd rather not say."

Brandan nodded and wrote something down. "All right. Is there anything you would like to talk about, or would you prefer I choose what we talk about?"

"Um…" Danny shrugged. "I really don't know."

"Okay. That's fine. We can start out easy. Can we talk about your family?"

His family? His father, his sister, his mother—

"I'd rather not," said Danny quietly.

A frown. Another note. Brandan tried again. "Okay. Well…if it's not too forward at this time, would you be at all willing to talk about why you're here?"

Danny waited for Brandan to elaborate.

"Danny, I know that you're not here because you want to be here," said Brandan gently. "Teens don't typically seek therapy on their own, after all. Their parents are almost always the ones pushing them into it. Would I be correct in saying that you're only here because your parents are making you come here?"

Danny nodded.

"But as I talk to you, I don't get the sense that you're completely closed off to me. You're not being snarky or avoidant or difficult. Your attitude is…pleasant." Brandan chuckled. "It's refreshing, actually. It's not something I normally see from a boy your age in this situation."

Danny faltered. "Thanks?"

"Danny, do you know why your parents want you to talk to me?" Brandan's tone became more sober.

Danny didn't say anything. But neither did Brandan. The therapist was clearly waiting for him to answer, and he seemed content to stay silent until Danny made some sort of reply.

He soundlessly nodded.

"Do you think you need any help?"

Did he? He had already admitted to himself just how much this had affected him, just how much this had torn him down to a low he had never thought was possible for him to reach. She had buried him so deep, and he was just now starting to climb out from the chasm she had mercilessly thrown him into.

But did he need help climbing out?

"I don't know," said Danny.

Brandan said nothing. The silence was horribly uncomfortable, but what else was he supposed to say? He honestly had no idea and he really didn't even want to talk about any of this with a total stranger anyway and—

Wait, wasn't he supposed to be going along with this therapy? It would all be over so much sooner if he just surrendered and told the therapist what he wanted to hear, right?

"Yes," Danny said. He looked Brandan straight in the eyes. "Yes, I think I need help."

Brandan held his gaze. "What do you think you need help with?"

Danny closed his eyes briefly and gathered his courage. He described his problems since starting high school, relentless bullies and unforgiving teachers and low grades and trying hard but still failing and being regarded as a loser who could never possibly be anyone significant and being overshadowed by his sister's genius and just so much pain and misery and sadness that he thought he could drown it out with drugs that were designed to kill pain and that he just kept seeking more and more and something stronger and stronger and at first only took them sometimes but then started taking them weekly and then sometimes daily and at maximum dosage and when that was no longer enough he tried out narcotics and liked them and that was the point he was at now.

At the end of his narrative, Danny exhaled and waited for Brandan to weigh in. But Brandan was not looking at him. He was writing something down on his notepad and was quiet for a long time, too long as Danny grew increasingly uncomfortable.

"And is that the entire truth, Danny?" he finally asked, meeting his gaze.

Danny balked. "Ah…yes." He shifted his position, flexed his sore arm, swallowed, waited for Brandan to answer.

"Please forgive my frankness here," said Brandan, "but it's part of my job to challenge you a little, and while I believe everything you've just told me, I think that there's more you're trying to hide, more that you don't want me to know."

Danny inhaled through his nose and tried to keep his composure.

"Would I be correct in thinking that, Danny?"

"What exactly makes you think that?"

"The way you told me all that just now seems curious."

"How so?" Danny asked quickly, anxiously, irritably.

Brandan smiled at him and held up a hand. "Hang on. You've done nothing wrong. Just let me tell you what I'm picking up on before you say anything more, all right?"

Danny leaned back and crossed his arms.

"Your parents told me a lot about you. They gave me an idea of your personality and how you'd likely behave when you were here with me. Now, of course, I try not to form actual impressions until I meet a client in person, but just meeting you now for the first time, even in the short amount of time we've been here, I could see that the description they gave me was more or less accurate." Brandan glanced down at his notes briefly before meeting Danny's gaze again. "I won't go over everything they told me now—we can discuss that later, if you'd like—but I mostly gathered that you might be very quiet and hard to get to open up and talk. And in the first, oh—" He looked at his watch. "—twenty-ish minutes, you were indeed very quiet and not very talkative at all. You only spoke if I asked you something, and you typically responded with clipped answers, or you'd decline to answer altogether.'"

"Is that a crime?" asked Danny somewhat snappishly.

Brandan did not reply right away, only gave him the most infuriating cordial smile. "No, Danny. It's okay, really. Let me stress again that you've done nothing wrong."

Danny tapped his fingers against his crossed arm but said nothing.

"You were so quiet in the beginning, but you weren't quiet out of defiance or moodiness. It seemed to be more like lack of trust and comfort, which is completely fine and totally normal." Brandan paused, pursed his lips as he thought. "But then all of a sudden, you started telling me everything. All about your personal issues and everything that your parents wanted you to come here for."

"Isn't that what I'm supposed to do?"

Brandan once again did not reply right away, almost looking amused at Danny's interjection. "There's nothing you're necessarily  _supposed_ to do, Danny. But it is curious to me that you would suddenly divulge and speak so much when I had the most difficult time getting you to say anything at all in the beginning."

Danny deliberately stayed quiet now. Out of spite? Or was he just proving Brandan's point? Ah, this was so  _frustrating._

"As I said before, I think everything you told me is true," continued Brandan, "but I also think that you want me to accept and believe that that is all there is."

Danny stared at Brandan.

"Telling me everything so quickly like that, things that I wouldn't have expected us to get into so soon considering how closed off you were in the beginning, leads me to believe that you're hoping I'll focus on all of that right now and that whatever is really troubling you won't ever come to light."

… _what?_

 _This_ guy—

How did this guy—what!—no—

Danny fumbled with his thoughts. Had he just sabotaged himself by trying to game this therapy system?

"Danny, we don't have to talk about whatever else is really troubling you," said Brandan gently. "We can talk about all of these surface issues first if you'd like. But I just want you to know what I'm perceiving. You don't even have to tell me if I'm right or not, okay?"

"That really is it," said Danny firmly. "Look, I just want to get through this as quickly as possible, okay? That's why I went ahead and told you all that. My parents aren't going to get off my back unless I do what they want, so I just figured I might as well tell you everything up front."

"I understand that, Danny, but—"

"Would you stop saying my name so often,  _Brandan_?" Danny shook his head. "God, you're as bad as my mom."

Brandan was quiet. He didn't even write anything down.

"My apologies," he said at last.

Neither said anything for some time. Danny focused on the pain in his arm, flexed it out and massaged it. Anything to get his mind off of where he was now and how much longer he was stuck here.

"Is your arm okay?" asked Brandan.

"It's fine," said Danny in a low voice, promptly setting it beside him.

"I've just noticed you flinching whenever you move it."

"Just a little sore. From working out."

A few seconds of silence. "Are you sore often? From working out?"

"Sometimes," said Danny warily.

Brandan nodded to himself. "And what do you usually do when you're sore or in pain?"

Danny glared at him. "I take whatever drugs I can find, of course."

"Sorry, I didn't mean—" Brandan held up his hands in surrender. "Do you mind if we talk about this right now? Or would you rather we talk about something else?"

Danny only shrugged.

"I just want to go back to those thinking errors I was telling you about. We'll talk about them more at length probably in our next session, and I'll probably give you an assignment, but for now, I just want to get you thinking about something." Brandan leaned forward. "You told me yourself earlier that you were struggling with a lot of pain, a lot of physical pain. You said that is why you started taking painkillers. Did I remember that correctly?"

Danny nodded.

"But you didn't really tell me what causes that physical pain. You mentioned depression but didn't give any specific examples of physical pain. Can you tell me about that?"

"Just—ah—" Cuts and bruises and sprains and breaks and stinging throbbing burning injections that flared up constantly reminding him of how they had gotten there in the first place.

But he couldn't tell Brandan about any of that.

"Headaches," stammered Danny. "Um…just, I think, maybe…from being so down all the time, maybe?"

"Depression can cause headaches, yes," confirmed Brandan. "Is that all?"

"Um…" What else could he say that wouldn't be indicative of his moonlit battles? "Muscle soreness from working out."

"And is that all bad enough for you to feel you need medication to control it?"

"I…" Danny swallowed. "Yes."

His temperature was rising. He could feel blood rushing to his face and neck. This guy.  _This_  guy. Something about his tone and pointed questions was setting off all his alarms.

"How do you feel when you have pain medication in your system? Narcotic or over-the-counter, whichever."

"Well, better," said Danny. "Of course. That's what they're supposed to do, right?"

"Yes," said Brandan. "How do you feel when you don't have any painkillers in your system?"

How to answer this? What answer was correct? What was Brandan hoping he'd say? "Um…" Danny shook his head to indicate his confusion.

"Let me make it simpler. How often are you in pain?"

"Often," said Danny softly.

"And when you take something, you get relief from that pain, right?"

Danny nodded.

"And when you don't take something, the pain remains, right?"

Another nod.

Brandan paused, looked down at the floor briefly before looking up at Danny again. "Do you ever feel you're not in pain?"

Danny blinked. "Yes. Of course."

"When you take medication? You're not in pain then?"

"Yes." What was this guy's point already? He was just saying the same things over and over.

"Do you ever feel you're not in pain when you haven't taken any medication?"

Danny furrowed his brow.

"Without any painkillers in your system at all, do you ever feel fine and not at all in pain?"

Well, not lately. Not since that night. Something was always hurting. Something always needed to be dulled with medication so that he could concentrate sleep breathe think—

But what about before that? He hadn't needed so much pain medication before all this, right?

But he was definitely in pain a lot even before that incident. Injuries from so many ghost battles that kept him awake at night, pain so bad that over-the-counter painkillers couldn't always quell, pain that required something stronger which was why Sam had helped him out by stealing narcotics for him.

"Sometimes, when we become dependent on something," said Brandan, "our brains will trick us more and more into thinking we need it when we don't. In the case of painkillers, someone who tries to relieve all of his pain with medication might start feeling as if he's always in pain  _unless_  he has taken something."

These words were familiar. Danny remembered his mother saying something similar just a couple days ago.

"And so it can become difficult for that person to decide if he really is in pain or if that pain is imagined."

This headache: was it really pain in his head, or was it all in his head?

"Do you know for sure that your pain is always real, Danny?"

_Ghosts are not capable of real, human feelings. Any feelings they have are artificial—_

_I can show you what real pain looks like on a real person—_

His arm hurt so much.

_I don't remember you being sore after trying to duplicate before—_

Well, he was sore this time, okay?

_No, Danny. You're not. You're just an imitation of a person, so your pain isn't real._

_I can show you what artificial pain looks like on a ghost—_

_You're a ghost. Your pain is artificial. You're only imagining it._

"No!" yelled Danny. "It's real. I'm real. Don't you dare tell me I'm an imitation."

Brandan frowned. "I didn't say—"

"My pain is real. It's not artificial." Danny jumped up and started moving to the door.

"Danny, where are you going?" Brandan remained in his chair.

"I'm done," said Danny simply. He was done with all of this, done with this guy  _this_ guy and his galling hail-fellow-well-met. "I'm not going to keep talking to someone who is going to accuse me of just imagining how I feel."

"I didn't mean it like that," said Brandan. "Come sit down. Let's talk about this."

"No." Danny put a hand on the doorknob.

"Danny, we still have ten more minutes."

"Brandan, I don't care. What are you going to do, tackle me?"

"No," said Brandan. "I can't stop you from leaving. I won't even try. Not physically, anyway."

Danny started turning the doorknob.

"But if you leave, I cannot say what your mother out there might do."

Danny halted, stopped, froze.

What his mother might do—?

What would she do—?

What would she do to him—?

Oh God what had she done to him what more could she do to him what was she still doing to him what would she do to him if she got her hands on him—?

Was she just lying in wait out there for him—?

He slowly let go of the doorknob with unfocused eyes.

Someone was calling him, saying his name way too many times.

"Danny?"

Danny turned his head to look at Brandan. The therapist seemed tense and alarmed.

"I meant that there might be consequences for leaving now," said Brandan carefully. "Consequences imposed by your parents. Privileges taken away like use of your phone or seeing your friends. Or your parents might opt to put you in a program which would place even more limitations on you."

Danny breathed, blinked, calmed himself, waited.

"I'm only saying that leaving now isn't going to solve anything for you," continued Brandan. "There are alternatives to talking to me, but they may not be alternatives you like."

Danny kept his focus trained on Brandan in silence. Yes, of  _course_  Brandan wasn't trying to imply that his mother would harm him in any way. It seemed he was always jumping to that conclusion when thinking about her, but he had to stop, had to retrain his mind to see her the way he used to because she was his mother and would never hurt him and that incident was all in the past and besides she didn't even know it was him so it didn't really mean anything.

"Danny, will you please sit down again?"

Tranced, Danny returned to the couch.

Brandan didn't say anything for a long time. Danny could feel the therapist studying him, but he kept his eyes downcast.

"Can we talk about your mother?"

His mother? The woman who almost—?

"No," Danny rasped in a whisper.

A pause. "Do you mind if I say something about her?"

"I'd rather you didn't." Don't do this to him, please, please, please.

"I'd like to talk about her," said Brandan. "You don't have to say anything. You can just listen."

Danny's fists clenched and clutched at the fabric of his jeans.

"Your mother loves you very much. That is very apparent to me. The way she talks about you is so affectionate and glowing. You mean the world to her."

Danny made no movement in response.

"Her career is certainly unusual, isn't it? Ghost research, ghost hunting. That must've been something for you and your sister to grow up with."

Right. He had always dreaded bringing his parents to school on career day to discuss their work. Other kids had parents who were doctors and lawyers and engineers and journalists but he just had to have parents who were frenzied about something most people didn't even believe in at that time. The teasing was relentless.

"And she is very invested in it, isn't she? She has such passion for her work. I've seen that not only when I talked to her earlier today but in the speeches and lectures she's delivered to the town about ghost safety and protocol."

"Both of my parents are passionate about it," murmured Danny.

"I know, but I'm just talking about your mother right now, okay?"

No. Not okay at all. But would pleading with Brandan only raise unwanted suspicion?

"She's apparently set on one ghost in particular. I'm sure you know about it living with her. Phantom? Danny Phantom? Same first name as you, coincidentally."

Danny shuddered slightly. Where did this come from? Why was Brandan suddenly asking about something so specific as this?

He wanted to talk about his ghostly alter-ego even less than he wanted to talk about his mother. Talking and hearing about himself in the third person was rather dehumanizing, and he really didn't need to feel like less of a person right now.

"Phantom really is an interesting ghost, isn't he? Other ghosts seem to want to do us harm, but then Phantom doesn't seem to have that inclination. Rather, it seems he wants to—"

"What does Phantom have to do with me?" interjected Danny, trying his best to conceal his irritation. "Why are you talking about him?"

Brandan scrunched up his mouth for a small second, glancing down briefly. "I am trying to connect my observations into something coherent. Bear with me, all right?"

Danny waited.

"Your mother appears to be quite, hmm…fixated on him. Would you agree with that?"

"What makes  _you_ think that?"

"Well, she brought ghost hunting equipment into my office so that she could be, as was the implication made by your father, prepared for him whenever he might happen to show up."

"What does that matter?"

"I am just wondering how all of this fixation and passion permeates—pardon,  _affects_  the rest of her life." He gazed at Danny. "And how it might affect you."

"Why would it affect me at all?" asked Danny cautiously.

Brandan sighed. "I'll be honest. The way you reacted when I mentioned her before was alarming to me. I just get the sense that she…is easily obsessed with whatever catches her interest." Brandan crossed his arms. "And I wonder if you've been feeling like she's been—I'm trying to put this as delicately and simply as possible—obsessed with  _you_?"

Danny could only stare at Brandan in utter disbelief. Had he heard this guy right? This guy  _this_  guy this  _guy_? Did those words really just come out of this guy's mouth in that order?

Was his mother  _obsessed_  with him? This guy couldn't even begin to understand the gravity of that question because well hmm let's see she had made it clear she wanted him as a trophy as the culmination of all of her efforts and he was seriously the  _only_  ghost she ever talked about these days and whenever there were any news or footage of him on TV she'd immediately stop whatever else she was doing and turn up the volume and she was now bringing ghost hunting equipment with her wherever she went for the sole purpose of capturing him and the way she had toyed with and humiliated him in that alley when she never played around with other ghosts in such a fashion—

"Let me clarify," said Brandan. "She told me that she only just recently started investigating your apparent troubles and essentially didn't let it rest until she figured out what seemed to be the problem. Did you feel that at all, Danny? Did that make you uncomfortable? Does it make you uncomfortable now all of this intense focus she's putting on you? And the way you implied that she says your name too often. Are you feeling as if she won't leave you alone?"

She was relentlessly hunting him because of what he was and not anything he did, simply because he was there and she wanted him.

"And do you feel as if there's no reasoning with her when she's this determined, this set on something? Like you have no control or power to change her mind? Do you feel you have no power in your relationship with her?"

His eyes were stinging, his throat was sinking.

"Do you ever feel afraid of her? Afraid of how she might react or what she might do? You seemed afraid a moment ago."

What to say? He was wary of the direction this could take, of the possibility that Brandan might conclude his mother was hurting or abusing him—

—wasn't that exactly what she was doing—?

NO she wasn't abusing him—

Then what had she been doing if not—?

She didn't know. She was hurting  _Phantom_ , not him, as far as she knew. She had no idea, and that wasn't her fault.

Not her fault then whose _—?_

It was his own fault. He had brought this on himself by not telling her before, and this was the consequence he had to live with. It was too late to tell her now. He just had to keep reminding himself that she just didn't know and that he couldn't hold that against her because she just honestly didn't know.

"It's not what you think," Danny finally managed to say. He looked up and tried to blink back his tears. Brandan handed him a box of tissues, but Danny swatted it away. "No, it's not—it's not that. Can we not talk about her anymore, please?"

Brandan studied Danny in silence for some time. Danny looked anywhere and everywhere but at him.

"Our time is up anyway," said Brandan softly.

Danny promptly got up from the couch.

"I can't make you talk about her."

Danny stood by the door and turned to Brandan in anticipation of whatever final thing he had to say.

"But she's a large part of your life, Danny. And, from what I've gathered about her, she's the type of mother who likely always will be." Brandan focused on him with grave, serious eyes. "You can try to avoid the subject, ignore and deny what's going on between you two, but I'm afraid you won't get away from her so easily."

The trembling resonance of Brandan's words nearly stopped his heart and stole his breath as his vision diverged.

Outside in the waiting area, Maddie jumped up from the couch she was on and greeted him enthusiastically. Danny could only stand apart from her and wonder how long he could continue to outrun her before she finally caught him.


	13. Chapter 13

Exhausted, drained, Maddie was done for the night. While Jack stayed behind to continue his own work, Maddie climbed the stairs out of the basement lab and placed her goggles on top of her hooded head. She rubbed her eyes as she scanned the living room. Jazz was sitting on the couch reading a book.

Maddie frowned. "Where's Danny? He's supposed to be in here with you. Is he in the bathroom?"

Jazz looked up from her book. "Actually, I think he went to bed." She tilted her head up toward the ceiling.

"Bed?" Maddie checked the time. Her frown deepened. "It's eight thirty."

Jazz shrugged. "He looked really tired."

Maddie studied her daughter. Such nonchalance and dismissal, and yet there was definitely a time when Jazz loved to analyze her brother's odd behavior.

Another thing for her to investigate. But in the meantime, she had to be sure her son was all right.

Maddie ascended the stairs and stood outside Danny's darkened room. She could faintly see him on his bed and under his covers. She quietly walked in and sat down on his bed beside him. His eyes flickered open.

"Hey, Danny," said Maddie in a hushed voice. "You're in bed awfully early."

"Yup," was his dull reply.

"Are you feeling okay?"

In the light cast from the hallway, Maddie watched her son's face carefully. "Danny, how are you feeling?"

Danny sat up with a sigh. "What do you want me to say?" he asked in a low voice.

Maddie looked at him sadly.

"How do you want me to feel?"

Her heart was breaking. She remembered when he had come home that day after school, the way he genuinely smiled, the way he seemed to actually be happy again. She had missed him seeing like that so much.

But then he came out of Brandan's office, and he was once again so melancholy and downhearted, no longer even had an appetite and declined her offer of buying him something to eat. Something had obviously happened during his therapy session, something significant. What had he and Brandan discussed? What had been revealed? Why was her boy once again so lost and distant in a place he kept her locked out of? Wasn't therapy supposed to help him?

Maddie resisted the urge to stroke his hair. "I want you to feel however you want to feel."

No reply.

"I was just a little concerned because I've never seen you go to bed this early."

"Not like I have anything else to do."

Maddie averted her gaze. There were still a couple more days before he would no longer be grounded. But she wished that she could lift it now. Any happiness it would bring him to hang out with Tucker again ( _not_  Sam) or play a video game would be invaluable. But she had to stay strong, had to carry out her parental obligation to see this punishment through.

Danny leaned back against his bed frame. "And I really am tired."

"But you're not feeling sick, at least?" asked Maddie.

Danny raised a brow. "Sick?"

"Yeah, well…I mean, that's not why you're in bed early, is it?"

"Sick in what way?"

Maddie frowned at his vexed tone.

Danny crossed his arms. "Like because of drugs? Is that what you're asking?"

Maddie pursed her lips. "No, Danny, that's not what I'm asking."

Danny didn't meet her gaze as he quietly thought for a long moment. "Sorry," he muttered. "I shouldn't have jumped to that conclusion."

She could see the slightest mist in his eyes as he looked off to the side.

"I just feel like…that's all you see when you look at me now," he whispered.

Maddie could feel herself trembling and shivering. She leaned forward and gripped one of his crossed arms, pulled it toward her so that she could hold his hand. Danny let her, his expression changing to one of mild surprise and confusion.

"I know this has been hard for you," she said, her voice shaking, her tears brimming. "I don't want you to think I don't understand what you're being putting through, what's being asked of you. But please know that this is hurting me, too. It hurts me to see you like this, Danny."

She stroked his hand. Danny made no movement himself.

"I don't want to do any of this to you. I don't want to put you through this." Maddie sniffed. "But I'm only doing it because I love you." She looked at him tearfully. "I really do love you so much, Danny. I hope you know that."

His eyes were vacant as Maddie continued to hold his hand. He did not speak for some time. Maddie waited, waited for him to hopefully say that he loved her, too.

"Okay," he finally said.

Maddie's eyes filled with more tears, but she turned away so that he wouldn't see. "Good night, Danny."

"Good night."

Maddie walked out of his room, left his door open behind her as she moved down the hallway. She covered her face and let her tears fall freely and silently.

She looked up at the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs, steps that weren't heavy enough to be Jack's. She wiped the moisture out of her eyes and off of her face as Jazz appeared in the hallway and entered her room. Maddie pulled herself together and stopped her before she could close the door. "Jazz? Can I talk to you?"

Jazz studied her mother seriously before nodding. "Of course."

She opened the door fully and held out an arm behind her, inviting her mother to come in. Maddie took a seat on Jazz's bed, and Jazz sat in her desk chair.

"I know things have been kind of crazy lately," Maddie began, "but I just wanted to check in with you, see how you're doing."

"I'm doing just fine," said Jazz.

"School going okay?"

"Of course. As always. No problems there."

"Excited to be graduating soon?"

"Oh, you have no idea. I can't wait to start college." Jazz smiled to herself dreamily.

It warmed Maddie to see her daughter looking so happy and optimistic. She had been accepted to a very prestigious university and was already counting down the weeks until she could register for her first roster of classes.

Yes, indeed, Jazz was off to bigger and better things.

While Danny was…

She hated to do this to Jazz, hated to bring up the subject of her brother once again when she was so cheery about her future prospects. She didn't want Jazz to think that Danny was the only child on her mind lately.

Even though it was absolutely true.

Maddie looked down at her hands, stalled for just a moment longer. "So…how have you been feeling about everything that's been happening with Danny?"

Jazz blinked. "How have I been feeling?"

"Yes. What do you think about it? And I don't mean from a psychoanalytical standpoint. I just mean your own personal feelings."

Jazz looked away with a small pout as she thought. "Um…I guess I feel…sad?" She looked back at Maddie. "I mean, I feel bad for him. I can tell he's having a really hard time with it."

"He is," agreed Maddie. "He really, really is." She sighed and tried to decide the best way to phrase her next question. "But is it at all…surprising to you?"

"Surprising?"

"Yes. Did you ever think that he'd get into something like that?"

"Well, I mean, I've always known that he struggled with his confidence and self-esteem, especially since starting high school. That's why I tried to help him sometimes, using the stuff I had learned in my psychology books. But he never wanted to hear it." She lowered her gaze. "I guess maybe I made him feel worse, made him feel like there was something wrong with him."

"You're a good sister for trying."

Jazz smiled but said nothing.

"But what about his use of painkillers? Did you know about that before?"

"I…no."

"Are you sure?"

Jazz looked at Maddie in confusion.

"It's just…remember when I asked you last week if you had noticed Danny taking painkillers?"

Jazz hesitantly nodded.

"Do you remember what you said?"

Jazz's eyes blanked as she recalled the memory of the conversation.

"You said that it had been you taking the painkillers. Because of your hair," Maddie reminded her as non-judgmentally as she could. "But that wasn't true, right?"

Jazz bit her lip.

"Why were you trying to cover for Danny, Jazz? Why didn't you just tell me the truth?"

"Because…" Jazz didn't meet Maddie's gaze. "Because I didn't want to get him in trouble."

"But this was really serious, Jazz."

"I know, but…" Jazz's eyes clouded. "He always hates when I meddle in his life. He's gotten mad at me so many times for it. And I just…I didn't want him to blame me for you finding out about it." She sniffled. "I didn't want him to hate me. I didn't want it to be my fault."

"But then why did you lie and say it was you taking them? Why didn't you just say you didn't know?"

Jazz did not reply right away. "Um…I guess I just…wanted to help him. I don't know." She put her head in her hands. "I just hate when he's mad at me, so I thought that maybe…maybe he'd…I don't know… _like_  me more, trust me more if I did what I could to keep him out of trouble."

Maddie watched Jazz hold her head with a puzzled frown.

"I know it's stupid, but he's…he's kind of the only friend I have right now." Jazz started crying. "And he doesn't even know that. I don't think he even considers  _me_  his friend."

"Your only friend? You have other friends." Maddie tried to rack her memory. Surely she had seen her daughter hanging out with other kids? But the more she tried to remember, the more she realized just how often Jazz stayed home for the weekend, how she always came home right after school and never hung out with anyone, how she was always reading a book but never texted or talked to anyone on her phone.

And the rare occasions when she did go out?

Indeed, it was always  _Danny_  and his friends she was going out with.

Oh, no, no,  _no_. Her other child was struggling, too. She couldn't deal with this, couldn't handle having  _two_  children to help. One was already too many.

Maddie pulled Jazz to her bed and wrapped an arm around her. She tried to soothe her daughter with motherly tones. All right, all right, it was all okay. She understood now, and it was okay, okay. Just fine.

"So you're not mad at me?" asked Jazz in a whisper.

"No," said Maddie. "Not at all."

Jazz sat up and wiped her eyes.

"You'll make so many friends in college, Jazz," said Maddie. "You're too sweet and wonderful and beautiful not to." She looked over at Jazz's bookshelf. "But you have to stop hiding behind your books. Don't get so caught up in homework and academics. Make time for fun."

Jazz nodded and smiled.

"Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

"I'm here to talk anytime you want."

Jazz hugged her mother. "Thanks, Mom. You're the best."

"Well, at least one of you thinks so." Maddie ran a hand through her long red hair. "But please, it really won't do Danny any good if you try to help him hide or cover up something just so he won't be mad at you. In fact, that could be really dangerous."

Jazz thought, pondered, quietly nodded her understanding.

Maddie stood and stretched. "Don't stay up too late, okay?"

"Are you going to bed?" Jazz asked.

"Not yet. I'm actually thinking of going out ghost-hunting."

"Ghost-hunting?"

"Mmm hmm."

"For Phantom?"

Maddie looked down at her with an amused expression. "Well, I'll take anything. I could always use more specimens for my research." She grinned. "But Phantom would certainly be nice."

Maddie dreamily looked into the distance, but her daughter's lack of a reply was not lost on her. She looked back down at Jazz to see her scrunching up her mouth in what appeared to be worry.

"What is it, Jazz?"

"It's just—I mean—why exactly do you want to capture him? I mean, what has he done? He hasn't done anything wrong, has he?"

Maddie crossed her arms and simpered. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Jazz pouted in confusion.

"It's not that I think he's an evil ghost that needs to be punished or locked away. On the contrary, I don't think he's evil at all."

"Then why—?"

"Because he's a ghost, and a very interesting one at that." Maddie looked up at the ceiling wistfully. "I have to claim him before someone else does. I have to figure out what it is about him that makes him so much more humanlike than other ghosts."

Jazz was quiet for a moment. "So…you think he's humanlike?"

"Very much so. That's why he's regarded so highly by so many in this town." Maddie smirked. "He has them all fooled."

"Fooled?"

"Well, because he's not really human, obviously. He's not a real person. He's just able to imitate one really well, better than any other humanoid ghost we've seen." Maddie shrugged. "You could almost swear his emotions are real."

"Why are you so convinced they're not real?"

"Because he's a ghost, of course."

A ghost having real emotions. What an entertaining oxymoron. Maddie didn't want to sound condescending in her reaction, but couldn't Jazz see just how ridiculous that question was?

"But…" Jazz seemed to be thinking deeply. "But I don't think he's an imitation. I mean, from what I've seen of him, he seems pretty…genuine." Jazz looked at Maddie hard. "How can you possibly be so sure he's not a person with real feelings when he just seems so real? Isn't there any chance that you could be wrong, that he could maybe be that one ghost that  _does_  have real feelings? That maybe  _that's_  what makes him so different from the other ghosts?"

Maddie gave her a teasing smirk. "Jazz, sweetie, are you one of those girls who's in love with him?"

Jazz's entire face turned as red as her hair. "What? No! Why would you even ask that?"

Maddie shrugged with mock innocence. "I don't know. Just the way you're trying to defend him. I wouldn't blame you, honestly." She looked at Jazz mischievously. "He  _is_  pretty cute."

Jazz was still completely red as she sputtered.

"And admittedly, that makes him all the more enjoyable to hunt down," said Maddie casually. "I mean, chasing after an ugly ghost would certainly not be as much fun. It's nice to so closely study a ghost who's also easy on the eyes."

Jazz covered her face with her hands but appeared to be too mortified to reply.

Maddie patted her on the shoulder. "Okay, sorry. Didn't mean to embarrass you." She kissed her daughter on the top of her head. "Good night, dear."

As Maddie entered the hallway and closed the door behind her, she could see Jazz falling backwards on her bed with her hands still over her face. Maddie chortled to herself, tickled by her daughter's apparent crush on the ghostly hero of Amity Park.

But her jollity was short-lived. Her eyes fell on the open door leading into her son's room. She approached and observed his sleeping silhouette in the light being cast from the hallway. She gazed at him just a bit longer before turning off the hallway light and finally retreating to her own room.

She lay on her bed on top of the covers and stared at the ceiling with the light on. She sighed, breathed, tried not to think about any troubles or qualms or stresses. There would be plenty of time to worry tomorrow. She just wanted to relax, wanted to do something that she enjoyed, something just for her and no one else.

She closed her eyes and put her hands in her hair, replaying her secret memories of Phantom in her head when she was close enough to touch him, memories that belonged to only her and could never be taken from her.

She longed to be that close to him again.

And when that finally happened, she was determined to never let him get away from her again.

"Maddie?"

Maddie jumped, her eyes shooting wide open. She sat up on her elbows to see Jack in the bedroom doorway smiling at her.

"You going to bed already?" Jack checked the time. "Well, I guess nine thirty isn't all that early."

Maddie shook her head. "Oh, no. I'm actually not tired yet."

"Oh, well, that's good to hear." Jack moved up to her, pushed her back on the bed and leaned over her. "I'm not tired either."

He pressed his lips to hers, trailed them down her jaw to her neck. Maddie closed her eyes and let him, allowed him to press his large hands against her and feel her up and down and around and everywhere.

But when her eyes were closed, the ceiling light filtered through like the ethereal glow of someone else…

She opened her eyes again to banish the image. How completely repulsive to be thinking of him while in the intimate embrace of her husband!

But she just wasn't in the mood for this right now. She didn't want to pretend, probably couldn't pretend even if she did want to.

Jack's movements and gropes were getting more aggressive, more passionate. Maddie could feel his excitement building and rising.

"Jack." Maddie gently pushed against him. "Jack, not now."

Jack halted and looked down at her in confusion. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Maddie pushed him more, and Jack quickly but reluctantly moved off of her and sat on the bed beside her. Maddie sat up but could not meet his gaze.

"You sure?" asked Jack.

Maddie nodded. "Yeah, it's just that…I actually want to go out for a bit."

"Right now?"

"Yes."

"Okay. To do what?" Jack checked the time again. "I mean, we could hit up a bar or something, I guess. We haven't done that in a while."

"Not since before our kids," Maddie said with a smile.

"Yeah, you're right. They kind of changed everything, huh?"

Maddie sighed. "They sure did."

Jack patted her thigh. "Well, they're old enough to take care of themselves now, so we can go wherever you want."

"No, we can't. Not while Danny's…" Maddie paused. "We have to make sure he stays here."

"We don't have to tell him we're leaving."

Maddie smirked. "Then  _we'd_  be the ones sneaking out. That's not setting a good example for him."

"It wouldn't be sneaking out! It's only sneaking out if you're a kid." Jack wrapped an arm around her and kissed her head. "And we're  _adults_."

Maddie eyed him warily.

"Don't give me that look," reprimanded Jack humorously.

Maddie chuckled and stood. "Anyway, I'd actually like to go out ghost-hunting."

She kept her back to him and nervously waited for how he would reply.

"Ghost-hunting?" Jack also stood. "Well, yeah, I guess we could do that. Why not? There are bound to be a couple of ghosts floating around we could bring back."

Maddie turned to face him. "I want to go alone."

Jack's face twisted with complete befuddlement.

"Ah, I mean, it's just that—ah—it's been really stressful this past week, and you know how therapeutic ghost-hunting has always been for me."

"I do know that about you, yes. But I don't see why you need to do it alone."

"Well, someone needs to stay here with the kids. Specifically Danny. One of us needs to make sure he stays in his room all night."

"Is that the only reason?"

Maddie frowned at his accusatory tone.

"It's not safe, Maddie." Jack shook his head. "I can't possibly let you go alone. I'd be too worried about you."

"Jack, don't you know me by now?" Desperate for a reason to not have to look at him, Maddie walked to her closet and pushed through her hanging jumpsuits. "I am more than capable of taking care of myself."

Maddie could feel Jack boring into her from behind, but he said nothing for a long time. She continued to pretend to look through her jumpsuits, pretended that she needed to put on a new one even though the one she was already wearing was perfectly sufficient.

"You're not going to be looking for just any ghosts, are you?" he finally asked with falling intonation. "You're going to be looking for  _him_."

Maddie paused her feigned search.

"You're going out to look for Phantom."

Maddie turned around to face him. "Well, don't you want to catch him, too?"

"Of course," said Jack, "but I'm not about to insist on going out on my own to hunt him down."

Maddie narrowed her eyes, not sure what implication he was trying to make.

Jack threw up his hands. "You know he's like twenty-five years younger than you, right?"

Maddie scoffed. "Ghosts don't age the same way we do. Who's to say how old he is? I'd need to run a thorough examination on him to figure it out."

"You'd really like that, wouldn't you?"

"Well, it  _is_  kind of what I do. What we both do. It's what we've been spending all of our money on." Maddie glared at him. "What are you trying to say, anyway?"

Jack stared at her with heavily weighted silence. Maddie boldly matched his intensity.

At last, Jack lowered his gaze. "Fine. Go."

Maddie's breath caught at the sight of his sudden surrender. "Jack—"

"No, it's fine. Really." Jack sat on the bed and blankly stared ahead. "You'd rather look for him than be with me right now."

"Jack, that's not—"

"No, no, I get it." Jack's eyes hardened. "Our kids don't get their good looks from me, right?"

Maddie's heart chilled.

"So just go. Indulge your fantasy." Jack's gaze moved to the floor. "I'll just be here in our bed. Alone."

Maddie teared, trembled. She approached him with a slight shake of her head. "I'm sorry, Jack. Of course I'll stay here with you. I didn't mean to make you feel…" She choked on the remainder of her sentence.

"No," said Jack quietly. "I really think you should go. I don't want you to stay with me out of pity."

"No, I wouldn't—I could never—Jack, please—"

Jack stood and faced her with a defeated sigh. He gently placed his hands on her shoulders as he looked down at her. "Maddie, if it really will make you happy, then I want you to go. You do deserve it after all of the stress you've gone through this past week."

He pulled her in for a hug. Maddie wrapped her arms around him.

"Just please be safe," he murmured in her ear.

Maddie held him tight and silently cried into his chest. He was telling her to go, but was that really what he wanted her to do?

What did  _she_  really want to do?

She could either go out knowing he'd be lying in bed feeling lonely and unappreciated…

…or she could stay and lie next to him in awkward silent discomfort in which he'd probably still feel lonely and unappreciated.

When at last she was outside in the open air, she stared up into the sky and scanned the blinking constellations for any sign of the ghost who had started all of this trouble for her.

Yes, this was all Phantom's fault for being so extraordinary and elusive and enticing.

But perhaps she'd be able to forgive him if he would just let her take possession of him already.


	14. Chapter 14

Maddie closely examined the vials before her at eye level. In addition to replacing the cancellation serum that she was convinced Phantom somehow stole, she had been working on different strains of the original solution, strains that could isolate specific ghostly molecular changes. In particular, she wanted to create a solution that would halt all ghostly molecular changes except for the inherently spectral ability to heal quickly and efficiently. She had yet to try it out on a real ghost, but she was fairly positive it would work. Now she and Jack would be able to keep ghostly specimens for longer periods of time, preventing them from becoming intangible or invisible or otherwise transforming but still allowing them to heal rapidly for further experimentation.

Actually, she had created this new strain specifically with Phantom in mind.

But there was no way she was going to tell Jack that now.

She could hear him, feel him working behind her a short distance away in their basement lab. To his credit, he had been acting completely normal. He had even given her his routine morning kiss in the kitchen like he always did. He wasn't avoiding her or showing the least bit of moody resentment that she had chosen to go out last night rather than stay with him. It was as if the incident had never happened.

But it  _had_  happened. And him acting so cheerful and sweet as usual was distressing to Maddie because she knew that he was just trying to mask it. That was so often Jack's solution to dealing with his pain: ignore it, and it would subside on its own.

She knew that was unhealthy. They had ignored what had been going on with their son, and look what became of that!

But that didn't make her any keener to talk over this particular pain with Jack. It was just so much easier to play right along with him and ignore it.

Her cell phone rang. She unhooked it from her belt and looked at the Caller ID.

"It's Brandan." She turned to Jack.

"Brandan?" Jack placed his goggles on his head.

Maddie nodded and accepted the call as she walked over to him. She held the phone between them so that Jack could hear. "Hey, Brandan."

"Maddie, hello! How are you?" came Brandan's cheerily polite voice.

"I'm great. You're on speaker-phone with Jack, too."

"Hey, Brandan," said Jack.

"Hey there, Jack!"

"So what can we do for you?" asked Maddie. "I'm assuming this is about Danny?"

"Ah, well…yes and no. I actually had someone cancel today, so I was wondering if you'd be able to meet with me at my office in about an hour?"

Maddie glanced at Jack, who nodded with a small shrug. "We could do that, sure."

"Well…I'd actually just like to meet with you, Maddie."

Maddie and Jack both exchanged confused frowns. "Just me?" she clarified warily.

"Yes. I'd like to meet with both of you individually, and I just thought maybe I could speak with you first? Today if possible?"

Maddie looked at Jack. He only shrugged.

"That's fine," said Maddie. "I can come in today."

"Great. And Jack, maybe you and I can talk later this week? I think I have some time on Thursday. I'll check."

"That would be fine. I could do anytime on Thursday. Let Maddie know," said Jack.

"Perfect. So I'll see you in a bit, then, Maddie?"

"Sure thing. See you." Maddie disconnected the call. She stared down at her phone for some time.

"He seems pretty thorough," said Jack at last. "But I guess that's what we wanted, right?"

"Indeed. I had a good feeling about him when I picked him." Maddie reattached the cell phone to her belt. "I guess I should get ready to see him." She started to climb the stairs out of the basement.

"Do you want me to go with you?"

Maddie turned back to Jack. "Go with me?"

"Well, yeah. I could drive you there and then just wait for you."

Jack gazed up at her. Was this some sort of test? What did he want her to say? Did he even really want to go with her?

Did she want him to come with her?

"I'll be fine," she said. "Don't you have work to finish up here?"

Jack turned around to look at his scrawled notes and his latest but still unfinished invention.

"But when I get back, how about we go out for lunch?" offered Maddie with a warm smile.

Jack returned the smile. "It's a date," he said quietly.

Maddie gave him a small wave and exited the basement, continuing all the way to their bedroom. She looked down at herself. New jumpsuit, definitely. This one already had a couple stains from her morning's work. And she definitely had to wear a jumpsuit and not normal clothes because she had to be ready for any time Phantom—no, any time  _any_  ghosts appeared. And make-up? Also definitely. She hadn't put on any yet. She also needed to brush her hair, maybe spritz some shine spray on it. And perfume. Which fragrance would be best? Brandan seemed like a plum and freesia kind of guy.

When she was once again in the living room and about to head out, she glanced at the door leading to the basement, imagining Jack hard at work on something like he always was.

She loved that man. Truly. With all her heart. He was the only man she had ever been involved with who valued her for her heart and mind and soul and not just her body. He made her laugh, and he made her cry. Apart from her children, he was the only one worth hurting over. It pained her so that she had made him doubt that. She had to make it up to him somehow.

Their lunch date. Perfect opportunity. She could worry about it then. For now, she needed to be focused.

She checked herself one last time in the mirror by the front door before grabbing her ghost-hunting gear and heading toward Brandan's office.

In the waiting area, Brandan held out a friendly hand to her. "Maddie, thanks for coming in on such short notice."

"It was no problem," said Maddie, holding back a blush to the best of her ability. How did he manage to get his golden locks to be so perfectly coiffed and fluffy? They looked even better in person than in his photo she saw when she was searching for a good therapist.

He led the way to his office. Maddie took a seat on the couch.

"Hang on. It's kind of cold in here, don't you think?" Brandan pressed a couple of buttons on the thermostat in the room.

"It feels fine to me," said Maddie.

"Ah, well, let me know if you'd like me to turn it back down." Brandan pulled over his office chair and sat across from her. He clasped his hands and smiled at her pleasantly.

"So, you talked to Danny yesterday. How was that?" asked Maddie. "I mean, I just noticed he seemed a little…down after talking to you. Did it go okay?"

"I got to know him a little. We actually got a little further than I would've expected us to, but I have a pretty good idea of where to go from here with him."

"But why did he seem so down afterwards? Is that normal?"

"We just talked about some things that I think brought some things to light that he hadn't been expecting. Things I hadn't been expecting either, honestly."

"Things like what?"

Brandan hesitated with an apologetic smile. "I cannot tell you any specifics."

Maddie nodded. Of course. She remembered discussing terms of disclosure with Brandan. As much as she longed to know exactly what Danny and Brandan had talked about, she knew that it was best if Danny felt he could confide in Brandan without fear of anything being repeated to his parents.

"But I can give you a quick general report if you'd like," said Brandan. "I am confident that I can help Danny work through some things, and I think that he could respond very well to cognitive behavioral therapy. I also think that he and I would be a good match. Overall, he seemed receptive to my technique, and he seemed to grasp the concepts and ideas I was presenting to him without much difficulty."

"That's great to hear," said Maddie with relief.

"He is as you say: mild-mannered, acquiescent. Not the typical teen I'm used to working with. But he certainly has his own spirit and his own mind." Brandan spoke with something that sounded like fondness. "I am actually looking forward to meeting with him more, getting to know him on a deeper level."

"That's wonderful. He really is a good kid. I feel so blessed to have him in my life."

"As you should."

"Anything else? Do you have any recommendations as to what Jack and I should be doing for him at home? We're still not sure what to do about his friend, Sam, the one who gave him the narcotics in the first place."

"Well, I didn't get a chance to talk with him about Sam, but I really don't want to say anything definitive about that without knowing more. Cutting off a teen from a good friend is not a decision to be made lightly. It can be really damaging. So without knowing more about his relationship with her and exactly what her role has been in his use of narcotics, I alone don't want to be making that call. If indeed she was the one who introduced these drugs to him and has been his sole provider, then I would say absolutely, his interaction with her should be either limited or cut off altogether."

"I admit that I don't know the whole story concerning Sam's involvement."

"Have you spoken to her parents?"

"No." Maddie crossed her legs in discomfort. "I keep putting it off. I know I need to just get it done, but…I don't know. I have so much going on with Danny. I kind of just wanted to get these consults out of the way first, you know?"

"Understandable," said Brandan, "but I urge you to call her parents as soon as possible. Work out something with them, come to an agreement about the interaction you want your children to be having. Let me know what you decide, what more you find out, and then I can give you a better recommendation. I'll also try to talk to Danny a little more about it to get a better idea about his relationship with her and how it might affect him if he were no longer allowed to see her."

"He'd be devastated," said Maddie softly. "He has such a crush on her."

Brandan didn't speak for a moment. "That always makes it so much more difficult. I hate making calls like that. But love, especially young love, has a tendency to really overcomplicate and dramatize situations like this."

His left hand graced the side of his face as he sighed and thought and mulled. Maddie watched him, noticed that there was no ring on his left hand. But how was that even possible? How had he not been snatched up already? "Are you not married, Brandan?"

Brandan blinked in surprise, then followed her gaze to his left hand. He held it out before him somewhat sadly. "Ah, um…recently divorced, actually."

"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that," said Maddie, embarrassed for asking.

"It's all right. I've been working through it." He crossed his arms and looked down with poignant amusement. "Like I said before, everyone in this world needs therapy for something. I am certainly no exception."

Maddie observed him. This moment of human openness from someone who looked as godly as he did was strangely…well, it was strangely  _something_  to her. It definitely stirred  _something_ in her.

"But we're not here to talk about me." Brandan moved in a bit closer to Maddie. "We're here to talk about you."

"Me?" Maddie could feel warmth building in her chest and rising to her neck. The way he said that, the way he seemed eager to talk about  _her_. "You mean Danny, right?"

"Well, you in relation to Danny," clarified Brandan. "I'd like to talk about how you're dealing with all of this and what you can do to assist with his treatment."

"I'll be taking him to a detox consultation after school today."

Brandan smiled. "And that's great. I'd like to know what they decide to do for him." Brandan shifted his weight. "But I mean...assist him in terms of how you interact with him, how you perceive his struggles, how you cope with both his progress and his failures. Since he's living with you, the environment you create for him in your home is going to greatly influence the success of his treatment."

"Makes sense."

"Danny is of course our focus, but we don't want him to feel as if all of the pressure is on him. It's important for him to see you and Jack working just as hard right along with him. And with someone as…sensitive as Danny, we don't want him to feel as if everything is dependent on how well he does, that we're placing this huge burden on him that he must carry himself. That can really create a lot of resentment." Brandan paused. "Although after talking to Danny, I imagine he wouldn't be the type to resent you two for putting him through this. Rather, I think he'd put all of the blame on himself, would put himself at one hundred percent fault for everything."

Maddie lowered her eyes with a small nod. That conclusion did not surprise her.

"We don't want him to feel that way. I plan on working with him on any feelings of self-blame, but it's going to take concerted effort from both you and Jack as well."

"Of course," said Maddie. "We'll do whatever it takes."

Brandan nodded his approval. His eyes moved to the bag that was beside her. "So…how has ghost-hunting been going for you?"

Maddie also looked down at the bag. "Oh. Well, I haven't been doing too much of it lately for obvious reasons, but I did actually go out last night." She reminisced about just how good the night air felt as she searched the streets. "I found a couple ghosts."

"But I'm guessing not the one you were hoping to find?"

"Ah…which 'one' are you talking about?"

"Danny Phantom, of course. Isn't he the ghost everyone's after?"

Maddie chortled. Indeed, Phantom was number one on every ghost hunter's hit list. But she was the only one who really deserved him, the only one worthy of having him. She wasn't going to let anyone steal him from her.

"He hasn't been around lately, has he?" noted Brandan. "I read something online about that, people wondering where he's been."

"He'll be back," said Maddie definitively. Perhaps she had scared him into hiding for the time being. The idea of Phantom actually being afraid of her was an intoxicating one that made her feel powerful. "It's his obsession to win the love of this town with his heroics. He'll definitely be back for that. He literally can't resist."

"His obsession?" Brandan leaned forward.

"Mmm hmm. All ghosts have their own obsessions." Maddie also leaned forward, eager to share all of her ghost-related knowledge. "Each ghost has their own individual desire, a desire so strong that it is all they can focus on. They will do anything and everything to obtain it. For those who once had an earthly biological existence, it is typically related to some unfulfilled yearning they had before they died."

"Are you saying that not all ghosts had an earthly biological existence?"

"Jack and I have seen ghosts reproduce. Some ghosts really are just born that way. But most seem to be an imprint of a past being, human or animal."

"Does every living being become a ghost upon death?"

"No. From what Jack and I have gathered, only those who have met an untimely or unfortunate end typically become ghosts. Those are the ones to most likely feel 'unfulfilled' when they die."

"And what about Phantom? If he had a biological existence before, what do you think his 'unfulfilled yearning' was?"

"Well, unfortunately, even if I were to try to ask him directly, there's simply no way for me to know for sure. Ghosts don't have memory of their past lives." Maddie gazed out the window in thought. "But if I had to guess based on his obsession to win this town over, I'd have to hypothesize that he was once someone who felt powerless, useless, and undeserving."

Brandan made no reply, but Maddie could see him frowning in thought.

"As to why he's so fixated on our town, I have no idea," continued Maddie. "Perhaps he lived here once. Or perhaps this was the first town he stumbled upon when he finally broke out of the Ghost Zone."

"What makes him so interesting to all of you?" asked Brandan. "What makes him different from all of the other ghosts? Why is every ghost hunter after him?" He looked her straight in the eye. "Why are  _you_  after him?"

Maddie could feel that warmth building again. "Where to even start? Well, for one, he was the first ghost I ever saw. Jack and I had been studying ghosts for years and were about ready to give up since we still hadn't seen one and the ridicule was starting to be a bit much for us. But then he—Phantom—suddenly showed up. I mean, that…you have no idea. That was huge. And then after that, tons of ghosts started appearing, so many ghosts for Jack and me to study and dissect. But Phantom…he just didn't seem like the other ghosts. There are plenty of other humanoid ghosts, a couple that Jack and I have even managed to get our hands on, but Phantom strangely seems more human."

"Humanoid. Is that noteworthy for a ghost?"

"Well, humanoid ghosts are likely the imprints of real biological humans who once existed, so yes, those are most interesting to us. But it's as if Phantom retained more of his humanity than other ghosts. Now some might think that that's because he actually  _does_  have some humanity, but as a ghost researcher, I can confidently tell you that it's all a façade. It helps him fulfill the requirements of his obsession which is why he's become so good at it. And it definitely works. So many in this town love him! Like a celebrity." Maddie smirked. "Not to mention that he  _looks_  more human than other humanoid ghosts."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, his skin tone is a human color. Most ghosts have a blue, green, or grey tinge, but he actually looks a little tanned. But then he's got this exotic white hair and these glowing eyes to show us that he's still something not quite human, and so we're led to think of him as being  _super_ human. I mean, even his jumpsuit and logo are your typical superhero  _savoir faire_! As if he's been studying exactly the sort of thing we adore and worship in our culture, reading our comics, watching our movies. And his physique."

That same warmth was now turning into heat.

"Like, he's actually  _changed_  and grown since I first saw him a year and a half ago. He's actually becoming this…perfect specimen of masculinity."

His thickening neck, his widening shoulders, the athletic tightening of his back, the swelling of his muscles as they stretched out the fabric of his suit, the play of his eyebrows as he unflinchingly stared down an enemy.

"And why is that? Why has he been developing in such a way? Why is he becoming something that can also be attractive to humans? Is it just coincidence, or is it somehow related to his ghostly obsession? Can ghostly obsession control outward appearance in that way? Is his obsession to be adored by our town allowing him to become an object of adoration both inside and out?"

Maddie tugged at the zipper of her jumpsuit.

"I had him once, you know," she said with a low, faraway tone. "About a week ago, last Wednesday night. I forced him to his knees and pressed a gun against his head. He was all mine in that moment. Only mine."

She lowered her zipper just a little and leaned her head back, pushing hair away from her face with a sigh.

"Are you okay? Are you hot?" asked Brandan.

"Just a little."

Brandan stood and moved to the thermostat. Maddie watched him, observed the strength in the stride of his long legs, the lines of his short sleeves around his toned biceps, the material of his polo shirt pressed against his robust chest.

"I'm sorry, Maddie. I didn't mean to turn you on."

Maddie blinked, swallowed, lowered her zipper a little more. "What?"

"I didn't mean to turn the heat on." Brandan returned to his office chair. "Sorry about that. It should cool down soon."

Maddie swallowed again and looked down in an attempt to hide her flushed face.

"So, clearly, you're quite fascinated with Phantom," said Brandan. "I mean, everyone is, but as a ghost researcher, he is particularly remarkable to you."

"Yes." Maddie pressed her lips together and raised her zipper.

"And it is quite the coincidence that he has the same first name as your son."

Maddie smirked. "Well, that's an interesting segue to get back to the topic of my son."

Brandan laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah, well…there is kind of a reason for that. The reason I asked you about Phantom is because…I would like you to think about how your work could affect Danny, especially during his treatment."

Maddie knitted her brow and crossed her arms as she waited for him to continue.

"You have such passion for catching Phantom. That is very evident to me. And your passion is based on such strong fascination and curiosity."

"Well, no," interrupted Maddie, suddenly feeling the need to defend herself. "I mean, yes, he's the most fascinating ghost I've encountered, but that's not the only reason I want to catch him. I mean, he's still a threat to the town. Not that I think he's evil, but a ghost is a ghost. He can't reason through his obsession which could certainly create dangerous repercussions for the people of this town." Maddie nodded to herself. "It'd be better for everyone if he were taken off the streets. You know, like locking up a dangerous animal. Not because that animal is evil; just because it'd be safer for everyone. And I just think that I should be the one to study him seeing as I am a pioneer in ghost research."

Brandan smiled kindly. "And I certainly wouldn't argue with that. But you must agree that you have great passion for your work? The fact that you stuck with it for so long despite all of the ridicule and lack of proof that ghosts even existed shows just how dedicated you are and always have been. And as a well-educated scientist, you must have a great thirst for knowledge. Would I be correct in saying that?"

"Well…yes, I can't possibly say no to that."

"And would you say you've always been that way? Have you always had a desire to learn and to discover? To figure out how the world around you works?"

Maddie switched the position of her legs, alternating which leg was crossed over the other. These questions were not at all rude or even very personal, but they still felt strangely accusatory. "Of course. Always. Since I was a little girl. I was never satisfied when I would ask questions and someone would respond with 'I don't know.' I was always determined to find the answer. I couldn't rest until I did find it."

"And is that limited to just your work and research?"

"What do you mean?"

"You have the mind of a scientist, right? You want to understand the workings of the world, its chemistry and physics and biology. And you want to understand what is beyond the world, or maybe it'd be more accurate to say what is on the alternate plane of this world?" Brandan glanced to the side. "I admit that I have no idea in what kind of existence ghosts reside, so please forgive me if my terminology is incorrect."

"No, no, that's a fine way to think of it. The Ghost Zone is a dimension alternate to ours. It coexists with our world."

"All right. So you have indicated your great desire to learn everything about all of that." Brandan paused. "But what about other areas not related to your research? Do you have a desire to know everything about politics? Or history? Or other academic subjects and disciplines? Or what's going on in your community?"

Maddie shrugged. "Depends, I guess."

"Depends on what?"

"Depends on how much I enjoy learning about a particular subject and how much it relates to my interests. I know enough about politics and history and other areas to keep me informed and up-to-date, but I reserve most of my energy for what is relevant to my interests."

"And what are your interests?"

"Well, like we've discussed, my ghost-related work and research."

"And what about interests outside of that? Surely you have others?"

Maddie leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. "You mean like hobbies? Or…? Is there a specific answer you're looking for?" Maddie looked at Brandan again. "I feel as if you're wanting me to say something in particular."

Brandan smiled warmly. "What about your family?"

Maddie chewed the inside of her cheek. "My family?"

"Yes. Your family is an interest of yours, right?"

"Well…of course."

"And just as with your research, you want to know everything that is going on with your family, right? You want to know how they're doing, what they need, what more you can do for them."

"Of course. Yes. I love them. I want to maintain closeness with them."

"And if you feel something is not right, if you feel a member of your family is struggling with something, you want to help him or her, correct?"

"Yes…" Maddie continued to answer, but these questions felt far more like statements, and she only continued to respond to show that she was listening and that she understood.

"And how far do you go to help your family? How far do you delve into their lives to figure out exactly what it is that they are struggling with?"

"I…as far as I have to," said Maddie, almost incredulously. Wasn't that what any normal mother would do? "I can't just let someone in my family suffer. I mean, when it became clear to me that Danny was hiding something that was really hurting him, I just had to…" She trailed off.

Brandan nodded. "We'll get back to Danny in a moment. I just want you, if you can, to link this back to your passion for your work. You seem to have a tendency to get very focused on a particular problem, and you won't rest until you solve it or at least understand it. Is that true in your research?"

"Yes," rasped Maddie. She had always prided herself on her tenacity in her research, on her fierce dedication and motivation, but Brandan was making her feel somewhat ashamed of it.

"And would you say that that same focus carries over to how you try to care for your family as well? When someone is struggling with a problem, you won't rest until you solve it or at least understand it?"

"Is that bad?" Maddie tried to fight back a glare, but the creeping implication of these questions was getting under her skin.

Brandan paused and carefully shook his head. "No, of course not. It's great that you care so much about your family, that you are so invested in their well-being."

"Well, if I hadn't been that way, I would've never discovered Danny's abuse of painkillers," said Maddie ardently. "My persistent effort and focus was what allowed me to finally figure it out."

"But have you thought about how that persistent scrutiny has been making Danny feel? How it might affect him even now?"

Maddie could not hold back a glare this time. "What are you talking about?"

"Have you thought about how he's feeling? Really feeling? Or have you just been focused on how you can solve this apparent problem he has?"

"Of course I've thought about how he's feeling. It's why I want to help him. I don't want him to hurt anymore. I don't want him to think he has to use drugs to alleviate his pain."

"Yes, I can see you want to help him. But do you think that focusing on the problem of his abuse of painkillers is going to fix everything going on with him?"

"Well, obviously, there are underlying causes." Maddie narrowed her eyes. "That's why I sought out a therapist for him, to help him with those underlying causes."

Brandan held up his hands. "All right, all right. But how would your describe your recent interactions with Danny? Have they been focused on the problems you perceive going on in his life right now?"

"Well, yes, of course, but that's because they need attention right now." Maddie scoffed. "I mean, right? I can't just ignore them right now, can I?"

What was this guy trying to get at? It was as if he was implying that she should not have been so intrusive in Danny's life. But what kind of parent would she have been if she had not investigated the situation so thoroughly?

Brandan sighed and leaned over, clasping his hands between his knees. "All right, well, let's go back to Phantom briefly."

"Phantom? Why? What does he have to do with Danny?"

"Please, just hear me out. I just want to use an example that isn't Danny. Perhaps that will make it easier to understand." Brandan tapped his fingers together, stalling for a small moment. "When you are studying Phantom and attempting to catch him, what is he to you? Is he a person?"

"Of course not. He's a ghost."

"So you are not concerned with his feelings or his personhood?"

"He doesn't have either of those things," said Maddie irritably. "He's a  _ghost._ "

"Is it frustrating to you that you have been unable to catch him? Is that why you've become even more determined, bringing around hunting equipment wherever you go so that you can be ready for him?"

"Yes." Maddie rolled her eyes. "Seriously, what is your point?"

Brandan hesitated. "I'm getting there."

Maddie exhaled and leaned back into the couch with crossed arms. After her heated discussion with Jack the night before about her strong desire for Phantom, she didn't appreciate this guy beginning to suggest the same thing.

"You don't see Phantom as a person. Do you see him as…an obstacle?"

Maddie blinked and did not say anything for a moment. "An obstacle?"

"Yes. Do you see him as an obstacle that is preventing your research from progressing? Is he an obstacle that is affecting other areas of your life?"

Phantom. He was all she could think about lately.

Her first ghost. Surely some sort of missing link. If she could just strap him down to her observation table, she'd surely learn everything she needed to fully understand ghosts. And she'd be forever revered for her contributions to the paranormal field.

Her first ghost. She could never forget her first glance her first encounter her first time her first touch—

The first time she actually touched him, pulling his hair and forcing his head back, the way he completely submitted to her without complaint but with such silent and tremulous surrender.

To have control over a being usually so powerful. She had won him that night, her prize after her tireless endeavors. He was all hers, and he knew it just as well as she did.

The obstacle at last surmounted—

And then he slipped away from her!

When Jack was on top of her just last night, on their bed, his affections traveling up and down her body,  _his_  image crept into her mind—

WHY?!

And Jack was so upset with her for wanting to go out to hunt  _him_.

Yes oh yes Phantom was an obstacle that needed to be overcome, and if she could just capture him already, everything would be fine again. Her relationship with Jack would go back to normal, and she could finally do everything she had been wanting to do to Phantom for so long. No more obstacles. She would become his obstacle instead, an obstacle that would be impossible for him to get past, the one enemy he would never be able to defeat.

"Maddie?"

Brandan's voice brought her back to attention. Maddie gazed at him somewhat vacantly, her mind still caught up with thoughts of Phantom.

"You see him as an obstacle, correct?"

Maddie nodded.

"It's actually a very common thing for people to do," said Brandan delicately. "We are naturally very self-centered, and we don't readily recognize that the people around us are just as complex and as real as we are. We tend to see everyone around us as an obstacle. If someone cuts us off while driving, we are quick to think that person is inconsiderate or unintelligent. We see that person as an irritant and not as a person who perhaps had a reason for cutting us off that we can't imagine. Perhaps that person is a new driver. Perhaps that person really didn't mean to and feels absolutely terrible about it but has no way to apologize to you. Perhaps that person is speeding to the hospital to see a loved one who is in bad condition."

"Or that person really could just be a jerk," offered Maddie testily.

"Yes, of course. But how can we really know for sure? When we start thinking of others not as obstacles but as real people with just as complex thought processes and lives as our own, we are able to form better understandings of and better relationships with those around us."

Maddie snorted in dark amusement. "I don't get it. Are you trying to say I should see Phantom as a person? Because let me reiterate that he is  _not_  a person. He's a  _ghost_."

"No, no. This isn't about Phantom," said Brandan quickly. "I was just using him as an example, one that you could easily relate to. I want to bring this back to Danny."

"I don't see Danny as an obstacle," said Maddie coldly. "He's my son, and I love him. He's absolutely a person to me."

"But do you see his struggles as an obstacle?"

Maddie frowned. "I don't know how to answer that. Isn't a struggle a type of obstacle? Nigh synonymous, even?"

"I am suggesting that you try to  _not_  focus so much on his struggles," said Brandan. "Instead of thinking of his use of painkillers as an obstacle that must be overcome, try to think instead how you can make him feel that there is nothing 'wrong' with him, that he is a valid person with valid feelings. Validate how he's feeling, and try to have interactions and conversations that are not at all focused on his use of painkillers or on any depression or anxiety unless he himself initiates it. Help him understand that there's nothing wrong with his feelings and that he should never try to fight off a feeling just because he believes it's what you want him to do, just because he believes it's why you're having him go through therapy and treatment in the first place. Pain and sadness aren't necessarily a bad thing. They're actually an important part of life. Help him see that his negative feelings don't have to be dulled with medication, that it's okay for him to feel pain and sadness."

"And what makes you think I haven't been doing that already?" asked Maddie coolly.

"I'm not making that assumption," said Brandan. "I just want you to keep it in mind. We can talk about it more in depth later. I have a great book, actually—"

"I don't need a book to tell me to be sensitive with my child."

"I just want you to know that viewing others and their problems as obstacles has a tendency to create hostility," said Brandan. "It's so important to validate the personhood of those around us. For instance, your perception of Phantom as an obstacle—"

"Why do you keep mentioning him?"

"—has created some negative feelings of resentment in you, yes? I can tell that you are frustrated that you have not caught him yet, and you don't want anyone else to have him. In fact, you see other ghost hunters as obstacles, too, obstacles that you have to beat out which is why you are carrying hunting equipment with you wherever you go."

"Seriously, what does this—?"

"You said that you almost caught Phantom." Brandan looked at her seriously. "You have actually interacted with him. A week ago, was it?"

"Yes," Maddie practically hissed.

"And how did that go? How did he respond to you?"

Maddie scoffed. "Well, he wasn't happy. I don't know what answer you're looking for."

"Was it a hostile interaction?"

"Yes. Of course. I wasn't trying to make friends with him. I was hunting him."

"You held him at gunpoint?"

Maddie shrugged. Why the hell did this guy care? "Yeah, I held him at gunpoint. I forced him down to his knees. He had no way to escape."

"Was he afraid?"

Maddie did not reply. The way Phantom shook and shut his eyes and sharply inhaled—yes, that was fear, or a very good imitation of it, anyway.

"All of that intense focus and targeting you were placing on him. Did you make him feel as if he had no choice, that if he tried to do anything to get away that there would be terrible consequences?"

"Yes. Of course. I had to keep him in line."

"And is it your desire to keep Danny in line?"

Maddie scowled at Brandan. What was this guy trying to imply?

"You have been focusing so much on Danny's issues. Have you thought about how it might be making him feel? Have you considered that he might be feeling the same way Phantom felt, that he has no choice, that if he makes any mistakes that there will be terrible consequences for him?"

Maddie threw up her hands. "Why are you comparing this to my dealings with Phantom? What are you trying to say?" She pinned him with a stern glare. "Do you think that I'm holding some sort of gun to my son's head? That I'm forcing him into submission with the threat of punishment if he doesn't comply?"

"I was just using Phantom as an example," said Brandan, almost pleadingly. "I just want you to think about how you perceive Danny's struggles and how you interact with him. It would be best to let him know that any relapses in his treatment are not going to be targeted, that you can accept them as part of the process and not as setbacks. You want him to feel comfortable enough with you that he won't be afraid of any mistakes he can and  _will_  make." Brandan paused and sighed. "You want him to feel safe with you."

Maddie's bottom lip moved up, her teeth gritting behind it as this final sentence seeped in. "Do you think he doesn't feel safe with me?" she asked in a low voice.

Brandan's expression changed just a little, one that looked defensive and apprehensive.

"What has he been telling you?" Maddie's eyes bore into Brandan. "Has he told you he feels unsafe with me?"

Brandan stalled by pulling in a deep breath. "I can't tell you what he and I talked about."

"I really think that's something I should know."

"Maddie, I really can't tell you one way or another. Please don't jump to conclusions like that. I am only trying to tell you how I think you can help Danny based on what I have come to understand about both of you and based on what I have seen work best in these situations."

"Well, I really don't appreciate you insinuating that I would use the same scare tactics on my son that I used on Phantom." Maddie was snarling now as she moved to the edge of the sofa seat. "Really, how dare you? Just what kind of mother do you think I am?"

"Maddie, I didn't say—"

"You didn't have to say it. I got your meaning." Maddie's breaths were coming in fast and sharp. "Are you even a parent yourself? Did you have kids before your wife left you?"

Brandan flinched before shaking his head. "I—no, I don't have children of my own."

"Then what makes you think you can tell me how to interact with my child? What makes you think you can give me any parental advice?"

"This isn't about parental advice. It's about seeing him as not only your child but also as a person—"

"And what makes you think I don't see him that way?"

"I'm not saying you don't. It's just that you've confirmed that there are others in your life that you don't see as people, others that you do in fact see as obstacles—"

"Like Phantom?" Maddie's eyes flashed in warning, daring him to affirm.

Brandan swallowed, leaned back in his chair, gripped his elbows. "I just want you to rethink how you view others. See them as people and not as obstacles. And yes, I think maybe that should include Phantom." Brandan averted his gaze, tapped his fingers against his arms. "And if you can do that, you'll see a lot of improvements in your relationships with others, most notably your son who really needs sincere validation and understanding right now."

Boiling intensity, raging and spilling over. Maddie jolted and rattled with offended irritation and fury. That _this_  guy would even dare imply that she was scaring Danny into submission in the same way she had scared Phantom—

And he seriously thought that she should see Phantom as a person? That Phantom was somehow worthy of such recognition? Phantom was a simulation, nothing more than an apparitional object. In fact, the only reason she referred to him as a "he" rather than an "it" was because he presented himself as a member of the human male sex so well,  _too_  well, better than most men she encountered in her day-to-day life, so god damn him for being so god damn masculine and sensuous and arousing—

He still had a youthful appearance, yes, but damn it he was definitely growing and filling out and already looked so much like a man and at this rate if he kept growing he'd be way too—

None of that mattered. His outward appearance was surely linked to his ghostly obsession to be a hero, and she would confirm that once she got her hands on him—

On him and under him and all over him and inside him—

It was her work, her research. That was all. She was determined to uncover all of his secrets. He would reveal so much to her, would help her unravel so many mysteries of ghosts and the Ghost Zone that continued to evade her.

He could never be a person to her. And she didn't need to see Phantom as a person to see her son as one.

And god damn this therapist this guy  _this_  guy for thinking that her attitude toward Phantom could prevent her from giving her son the love and nurturing he needed.

Maddie abruptly stood, her gloved hands clenched as her glower drilled into Brandan fiercely. "You don't know what you're talking about. You don't know a thing about ghosts. You don't know a thing about me. You don't know a thing about my relationship with Danny. You think you're so smart because you have a degree and have worked with some kids, but you're trying to give me advice that you don't actually know anything about. Telling me to perceive a ghost as a person. Telling me that that is interfering with how I perceive Danny. Do you have any idea how stupid that sounds?" Maddie mockingly laughed. "No, you don't, because you've never fought any ghosts yourself, and you don't even have any kids of your own."

Brandan remained sitting and only looked up at her. His normally cool expression was replaced with stunned unease.

Maddie picked up her bag and narrowed her eyes down at him. "Well, I guess it's no mystery to me now why someone would divorce you."

She stormed out of the room with an angry sashay. She smugly smirked to herself as she recalled the way Brandan had looked. Such satisfaction to see that mixture of shock and hurt in his stupid handsome face.

Maddie glanced down at her bag of ghost-hunting gear. She could sure use something to take out all of this pent-up frustration and vexation on. One of her ghostly specimens already locked up at home would do for now. She had to do something to calm herself before she took Danny to his appointment later that afternoon. Right, so she could properly  _validate_  him as a  _person_ because she apparently wasn't doing a good job of that already.

She scanned the sky and the clouds for a supernatural glow that didn't belong. If it really was somehow all Phantom's fault that she wasn't giving Danny the validation he needed, then she would be sure to make that ghost pay for it.


	15. Chapter 15

The day passed for Danny as something like a dream as he tried his best to not think too much about anything. Not about what Brandan had said to him, not about his own mother wanting to detain and vivisect him, not about the tearing pain in his left arm and leg because he figured he should try to instead duplicate his non-dominant side. It had seemed like a sensible idea at the time, but now it was only a constant reminder that he still couldn't get it right. He tried to keep any limping to a minimum and stretched out his left arm whenever he got a chance.

If he could just take something, anything to dull this pain.

Was it supposed to hurt this much? Who could he possibly ask? Vlad or some other ghost?

(Did it actually hurt this much? Was he somehow imagining it?)

Sam and Tucker had been trying to talk to and interact with him all day, but he could only give short answers and slight shakes of his head to indicate that he was not in the mood. They eventually gave up and soundlessly remained by his side throughout the day. Talking about this wasn't going to help. Talking had gotten him into this particular state in the first place, and that was supposed to be therapy. Therapy was supposed to help him.

But talking and therapy and all the treatment in the world that his mother had planned for him couldn't possibly help because there was no way he could ever tell anyone the real problem.

Lancer had paused by his desk during English. Danny kept his head down and pretended not to notice, pretended to be suddenly very busy and hard at work on the assignment that had been given, but he could feel the older man peering down at him, perhaps remembering the uncontrollable fit of laughter that had seized him just twenty-four hours earlier, perhaps wondering why he was suddenly so disconsolate again. Danny propped an elbow on his desk and leaned his head in his hand to further separate himself from Lancer, a wall to show the teacher that yes he was closed off and no he didn't want to talk so please don't talk to him please just walk on by.

But part of him wanted to jump up and grab the older man's arms and yell at him and anyone else who would listen, "My mom almost killed me and she still wants to kill me and I don't understand why!"

But of course that would accomplish nothing. So he remained silent and avoidant and waited for the teacher to move on.

And now as he sat in the passenger's seat of Jazz's car, he was grateful for the silence, grateful that Jazz was not trying to engage him in conversation and ask how he was doing and how he was feeling because what answer did she expect from him at this point? He was tired of disappointing everyone with how  _not_  well he was doing, but he couldn't pretend and he didn't want to pretend.

But still…it was odd that Jazz wasn't speaking to him. Even that morning, she had said little to him. She barely even looked at him, and when Danny did glance at her or catch her eye, he could see the smallest trace of a blush in her cheeks.

It clearly meant something, but Danny had too much on his own mind to worry about what was going on with her. He opted to just gratefully accept her silence so that he could continue to keep his mind as blank as possible during that car ride home. He needed this blankness now, this nothingness, because he knew that he'd have to interact with  _her_  again very soon, and he needed as much of his mental strength as possible for that.

Jazz parked along the street, and Danny immediately exited the car and headed up to their front door. No point in delaying this. Delays just made the dread grow and sink in deeper. So he instead power walked to the door and pushed it open without any hesitation, without even waiting for Jazz to walk in with him.

Inside, Jack and Maddie were sitting on the couch. Jack had his arm behind Maddie while Maddie sat with her arms crossed. She looked up at Danny as he entered the living room. Danny waited for her to speak first. Her body language seemed closed off, as if she didn't want him to say anything anyway.

"We need to leave in twenty minutes," she said calmly, but she never uncrossed her arms.

Danny recalled what she had said to him that morning before he left for school with Jazz, something about a detox appointment. "Okay."

"So do whatever you need to do so we can leave right on time." She tilted her head in the direction of the kitchen. "I made you a sandwich. Eat it before we go."

Danny frowned. Her tone, her words, her movements all seemed off, as if she was trying to fight back what she really wanted to say and do. "Ah, well…thanks, but I'm not—"

Maddie's eyes narrowed at him. Danny stopped himself from saying anything further. He could hear Jazz coming up behind him. Jack glanced at Danny and then looked at Maddie again with a worried expression.

"You hardly ate anything this morning," said Maddie. "And knowing you, I'm sure you didn't eat anything at lunch either."

Danny made no reply but kept eye contact with her. This accusation stung, the way she said it making him feel like he had really disappointed her.

"I need to make sure you eat something. I know you don't like eating when you're depressed or anxious or whatever you've been feeling, but you need to eat." Maddie's voice rose just slightly. "I need to make sure you're getting the nutrition you need so that this treatment and therapy can actually work. So just eat it, please."

Maddie's eyes turned forward again, her arms still crossed. Danny could feel Jack's and Jazz's eyes on him. He tugged at the strap of his school bag on his shoulder as he tried to figure out what to say next.

"Okay," he said at last. Maddie's eyes went back to him so quickly that Danny winced and averted his own. "Um, I'm just going to go upstairs real quick, okay? Put some things away, use the bathroom. Then I'll be right back, okay?"

Would she allow this? Was he asking too much? As Maddie continued to stare at him, Danny was sure he had made the wrong choice, that he should've just gone to the kitchen and eaten that stupid sandwich right away even though he really didn't want to because he always felt so much better when his stomach was light and empty at times like this.

Maddie checked the time on her phone. "You have eighteen minutes."

Danny waited for her to say more, but she leaned back into the couch and said nothing. Jack nodded at Danny, urging him to quickly go and do whatever he needed to do to be ready in eighteen minutes. Jazz looked at him sympathetically as he headed up the stairs and did his absolute best to put appropriate weight on his left leg so that his mother or anyone else wouldn't call him out on having just the slightest limp.

His mother was definitely in some sort of mood. Not a good mood. What had happened? He knew he hadn't been particularly kind to her the night before when she had come into his room to talk to him about why he was in bed so early. Had he hurt her feelings? Well, he was sure he had, but he hadn't meant to hurt her  _that_  much. Had he been too insensitive? But she had seemed okay that morning at breakfast. Had something else happened while he was at school?

He couldn't dispel the terrible guilt, the pressing feeling that this was somehow his fault.

He sat on his bed and rubbed out the pain in his leg, the feeling of tearing and stretching and coming apart.

Who else could he blame but himself for all this?

If he had just been more careful with his use of painkillers—

If he just hadn't needed them in the first place—

If he hadn't scarred his DNA and turned himself into something that wasn't even human—

If he hadn't turned himself into the one thing that his mother obsessed over all else—

If he had told her the truth from the beginning—

What would that have accomplished? Did he really think she would refrain from running tests on him just because she knew he was her son? If anything, she'd insist on it under the guise of motherly love and concern.

Danny straightened up, shaking out his left leg and arm. Regardless of whether he had a part in her bad mood or not, he had to do what he could to not make her mood any worse.

He descended the stairs as quickly as he could without limping. He made brief eye contact with Maddie, who was still on the couch with Jack, before proceeding past her to the kitchen and finding the sandwich she had made for him. Jazz was also at the table eating a sandwich of her own. She watched him sit down, but rather than say something to him, she took a bite of her sandwich and for some queer reason turned just the slightest shade of pink.

Something was up with his mother, something was up with his sister. But he really didn't have the mental capacity for all of this at once.

One thing at a time. He had to eat this sandwich.

Danny picked it up. A deli sandwich with lean roast beef and turkey. He knew he'd like it. Well, he knew that he  _should_  like it. But it didn't look appetizing at all. He felt a strong aversion to it, his mind insisting that no, no, this wasn't good for him right now.

But his mother had been right. He hadn't eaten much at all that day. Shouldn't he be feeling hungry? Shouldn't he want to eat? He had no idea why he was this way, but sadness and anxiety were both just so much easier to bear when his stomach was empty. Food only deepened his pessimism and made him feel sluggish.

And sometimes…the pain of hunger could take his mind off of his problems, and that was always a good thing.

Jazz was watching him. No way he could just toss the damn thing and pretend he had eaten it. He slowly brought the sandwich to his mouth and took a bite. His mind immediately reprimanded him for the action, silently ordered him to not swallow it.

He had done so many difficult things in his life, but at the moment, nothing seemed more difficult than actually chewing and forcing this bite down.

He sighed out after finally finishing the bite and looked at the rest of the sandwich with a grimace.

"You okay?" asked Jazz.

Danny looked at her in surprise. This was the first time she had spoken to him in a while. "Ah…yeah. I'm fine."

He took a larger bite this time and ignored the stabbing mental commands to stop stop  _stop_.

Again. Another. Each bite was always harder than the last.

"Danny? Are you ready to go?"

Maddie entered the kitchen and moved up behind Danny. He didn't look back at her as he realized that he had only managed to eat half of the sandwich. He caught Jazz's eye as she cringed at the expression on their mother's face that he himself was unable to see and didn't dare turn around to see for himself.

Maddie sighed irritably. "Danny, you've had plenty of time to finish that."

"I'm sorry; you're right." Danny took a large bite and nearly choked on it as he tried to swallow it down quickly, but it was so difficult, as if his brain was convinced that there was no room in his stomach for even just this one bite.

"We really need to leave, Danny." Her tone was cross. "I told you how much time you had."

"I know, I know. I really am sorry." Danny stood but did not make eye contact with her as he held up the sandwich. "I can just take this with me."

"You were supposed to drink the milk, too."

Danny looked back at the table warily. Indeed, there was a glass of milk there that he had not even noticed for some reason. All of his focus and energy had gone into eating this sandwich, and even that hadn't been enough since it was only half finished.

Jazz was now gazing at him with such pity. Danny reached for the glass. "I can drink this real quick." Drinking was certainly much easier than eating. He raised the glass to his lips and started chugging.

"No, stop. Don't make yourself sick." Maddie walked to their medicine cabinet and pulled a key out of her pocket. Danny curiously watched as she unlocked the cabinet and fumbled around before finding what she wanted and relocking the cabinet. She handed him a small coated pill.

"What is this?" asked Danny, setting the glass down and rolling the pill between his fingers.

"It's a vitamin D supplement," replied Maddie tersely. "It's why I wanted you to drink the milk, but since you weren't able to finish it like I told you to, this will have to do." She began to walk out of the kitchen. "Come on, let's go."

Danny walked behind her, holding the sandwich in one hand, the pill in the other. He turned his head to look behind him. "Ah, okay, let me just get some water, or maybe that milk—"

"No time. Just dry swallow it. I'm sure you're an expert at that by now."

Danny froze. He could hear Jazz gasp softly behind him. Maddie stopped at the kitchen entryway and turned back to him impatiently.

"Danny, come on already. We need to leave." She scowled at him.

Danny could only stare at her with no words to answer her. Had she even realized the callousness of what she had just said? He looked down at the pill between his fingers and fought back the swelling emotions.

She only saw him as a pill popper. That was it, wasn't it?

But maybe she didn't really mean it. She was clearly in a foul mood. Maybe he was just being too sensitive. And maybe he deserved it anyway for the way he had spoken to her the night before in his room.

And it wasn't like she was wrong. He _had_  gotten pretty good at dry swallowing, had gotten good at gathering enough saliva and forcing the pill down so that it wouldn't get lodged in his esophagus because there were times when he needed to take something for his pain immediately but there was just no time to get water and there was no way he was going to let something like that prevent him from getting the relief he needed.

He kept his eyes down as he placed the supplement in his mouth and swallowed it along with his pride.

Maddie was already out of the kitchen. Danny quickly followed and walked toward the front door, doing his best to finish the sandwich that was already feeling so heavy in his stomach and slowing him down and no no he couldn't slow down not now she was already so irritated with him.

"We're two minutes behind now," said Maddie, her ghost-hunting bag slung over her shoulder.

Danny mumbled a low apology but did not meet her gaze.

"I told you—I gave you plenty of—and yet—"

Danny braced himself, prepared to submit himself to whatever lecture she wanted to give him. If it would make her feel better, then fine. He would just listen and agree with her.

"Maddie." Jack walked up to her. "How about I take Danny?"

Maddie stared at him. "What?"

"I can take Danny. You can just stay here and relax, okay?"

"Relax? What are you trying to say?"

Jack hesitated. "You just seem a little stressed, and I want to help."

"Right, you want to help, like when I first tried to tell you that Danny was hiding something from us?"

Jack flinched at the bite in her tone. "Maddie, I really am sorry about—"

"Forget it. It's done. Right now, I need to take Danny to his detox consultation. And yes,  _I_ want to take him because I want to talk to them directly and hear what they have to say." She looked at Danny sternly. "And now we're three minutes behind."

Still holding onto the rest of his uneaten sandwich, Danny watched her leave out the front door in a huff. He didn't want to follow her, didn't want to be anywhere near her. But the longer he waited, the angrier she'd get.

He could feel the sympathetic eyes of Jazz and his father on him as he forced himself to move toward the front door. Jack put a hand on his shoulder briefly, and Danny paused only a moment to acknowledge it with a small smile.

Just outside the front door, Danny stopped to breathe. His mother was waiting in her car at the curb with the engine on and revving. He finally made his way down the walkway and climbed into the passenger seat.

"Make sure to finish that sandwich, Danny," said Maddie before shifting the car into drive and pulling out onto the street.

Danny said nothing and took a bite, chewing as quickly and as thoughtlessly as he could. He kept his eyes forward, staring out at the road and traffic ahead of them.

"We have a lot to do this week," said Maddie, "and it would really help me out if you just do things when I tell you to do them, okay?"

"Okay," said Danny quietly before taking another bite.

"So let me just give you a rundown of what's going to happen." Maddie paused before continuing. "So, today, right now, I'm taking you to a consultation for detoxification. Do you know what that means?"

"I…not exactly."

"It's to help you cleanse and purge your system of any toxins and also help you with any withdrawal symptoms you might have."

Danny inhaled deeply. He knew he didn't need detoxification. He hadn't taken anything since Friday night, and he felt perfectly fine. No withdrawal symptoms because he didn't actually have an addiction. And besides, he really  _was_  in pain a lot. He only took painkillers when he was in pain. Wasn't that their purpose? Wasn't he using them correctly?

But he couldn't tell her that. He just had to go along no matter how disparaging this all was.

"Tomorrow, I'll be going to your school to have your schedule changed." Before Danny could interject, Maddie went on. "I'll be taking you out of any classes Sam is in."

"What? Why?" demanded Danny.

"I still haven't called Sam's parents, but I'm sure it's what they'll want me to do. And besides, I really don't want you to hang out with her anymore if she's the one who's been getting you drugs."

"They're not drugs; they're just—"

"They're  _drugs_ , Danny. And if Sam's been giving them to you, then I really don't think you should be seeing her anymore. Not in school." She glanced at him. "And not outside of school either."

Danny's jaw slacked as he tried to process this, a hand going to his head. Sam, his best friend? One of the few people he felt safe and comfortable with? His mother was going to cut him off from someone who actually helped him and gave him more confidence and made him feel better?

"It's not Sam's fault," said Danny pleadingly. "She was just trying to be a good friend. Please don't do this."

"She's been helping you get narcotic painkillers that you don't have a prescription for. Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? And how illegal?" Maddie shook her head. "I'm sorry. I know she's one of your best friends, but I don't think she's a good influence on you right now."

"No," said Danny firmly. "Sam has helped me through so much. And she's one of my  _only_  friends. Without her, it'd just be Tucker, and Tucker's great, but…" Danny shut his eyes and breathed. "It's not Sam's fault. I asked her to help me out, and she came through for me. That's all. This isn't her fault."

Maddie sighed. "I'm really sorry, Danny. But I'm not going to change my mind. We can see how your treatment goes and revisit this later, but for now, I don't want you to see Sam anymore."

Danny leaned his head back and gazed up at the ceiling of the car in frustrated silence.

"Okay, moving on. Thursday, you'll be meeting with a new therapist—"

"Wait, what? A new therapist?"

"Yes."

"So I'll be seeing two therapists?"

"No. Just this one from now on. I've decided that Brandan isn't going to work out."

Danny considered this in confusion. Not that he was about to complain since he couldn't stand that guy, but his mother had seemed so taken with Brandan. What had changed her mind? Was it because he had acted so sullen immediately after his therapy session?

"And on Friday, you'll be getting a physical including comprehensive blood work."

Danny's breath caught. "A physical? Blood work? Why?"

"We just want to be sure that you're healthy. You're overdue for one anyway."

"But I feel fine. Really."

"You claim that you've been in pain which is why you've been taking painkillers." Maddie's tone was calm but unrelenting. "So if something really is causing you pain, we need to figure out what's going on and how we can relieve that pain so you don't become more dependent on painkillers. We need to see if maybe there's something serious going on that's causing you so much pain."

"It's not serious. It's just—I told you I've just been sore from working out. And sometimes I get headaches."

"It doesn't hurt to make sure that there isn't something more serious going on, and like I said, you're overdue for a physical anyway."

"Okay, well, what's the point of blood work? What exactly are they going to be looking for? How will that help them?" Danny attempted to keep his tone just as calm as his mother's, but he could hear the involuntary strain.

"Oh, blood work can reveal so much. Proper function of all of your organs and systems can be seen in blood tests." Maddie paused. "But in particular, we're going to want to check your deficiencies, your hormonal levels, things like that. Anything that could possibly be a factor in your depression and anxiety."

Danny could feel himself shivering. He had no idea what his blood would look like when analyzed, but considering that he was able to use his ghost powers to a limited degree in his human form, he had to guess that there were ghostly properties in his blood that the doctors would take notice of and question and show others and it would eventually get to his mother and then oh God oh God she'd finally figure it out finally figure out that he was half ghost and the very ghost she had been hunting and then she'd—

"Depression—anxiety—" Danny tripped over his words, tried to find the right ones to make this somehow go away. "Isn't that what therapy is for?"

"Well, yes, of course, but there are chemical items that can make you think and feel certain ways, and if there's an imbalance somewhere that we could fix with a supplement or medication, then that'd help you feel better sooner."

"But aren't we supposed to be trying to get me  _away_  from medication? Isn't that the whole point?"

"Medication itself isn't a bad thing." Maddie glanced at him somewhat reproachfully. "The problem is that you've been taking over-the-counter painkillers too often, and worse, you've been taking narcotic painkillers without a prescription."

"Too often? How can you possibly even know that?" asked Danny heatedly. "You're not me. You don't know what my pain is like."

"I'm not claiming to know, Danny," snapped Maddie. "But this is exactly why you're getting a physical and blood work, so that an actual doctor can determine what medication you actually need, and then we can monitor it and make sure you don't develop a more severe dependency."

"Dependency." Danny scoffed. "Is that a nice way to say 'addiction'?"

Maddie threw up one hand, her eyes still on the road. "Whatever you want to call it, Danny."

Danny narrowed his eyes and exhaled heavily. "Do you honestly think I have an addiction?"

Maddie didn't speak for a moment. "Well, you snuck out in the middle of the night to steal narcotics, so you tell me."

Danny fumed and shook and snarled behind his pressed lips. By  _God_  did that sting, and it wasn't even true! But he couldn't deny it or tell her the truth, so he instead turned to her angrily. "Well, what if I really am in pain? Isn't that what painkillers are for? Is it really an addiction if I'm just using them for their intended purpose and only when I'm actually in pain?"

"Yeah, it can still be an addiction." Maddie gripped the steering wheel aggressively. "But your pain might not be real. Have you considered that?"

Artificial simulation artificial person artificial pain—

"It's real," said Danny steadfastly.

"But what exactly is this pain? Because all you've told me is that it's soreness from working out and headaches, and it's hard for me to believe that it can be that bad if that's all it is."

"That's—ah—"

"Is it something more than that? Because if it is, you need to tell me. And you need to tell the doctors."

It was of course so much more than that, but he couldn't tell her about all of his injuries that were sometimes so severe that he couldn't even see straight. And he certainly couldn't tell the doctors or else they'd want to run more and more tests on him and he just couldn't be a test subject no please never again and he couldn't let them discover his secret.

"No, that's…that's all," stammered Danny.

"And you're telling me that your pain is severe enough to warrant so many painkillers including narcotics?"

Yes. "I…I don't know."

"Feeling like you need something that strong when you really don't indicates an addiction, Danny."

Danny turned to look out the passenger side window while blinking back his distress. "So, what? Am I just never allowed to take painkillers again? I mean, what if I really am in a lot of pain?"

"Hopefully, by the end of all this, you'll be able to make rational decisions about when to take painkillers and how much to take. But for now, no, you're not allowed to take anything without talking it over with me or a doctor first." Maddie pulled up to a stop sign and took the opportunity to look at him. "And you definitely shouldn't be taking narcotics without a prescription. Ever."

Danny met her gaze. "I can decide for myself how severe my pain is. I don't need you or a doctor to tell me what I should or shouldn't be taking."

Maddie glared at him. "Well, you know, Danny, that's exactly something an addict would say."

Danny matched her glare, but Maddie turned her attention back to the road. He knew he was supposed to just submit and give up his dignity, but he was just  _so_  sick of her scorning him like this when she had NO IDEA what she was talking about.

"I am  _not_  an addict." Danny kept his eyes on her even though she continued to look forward. His voice shook slightly. "Yes, okay, I've been taking painkillers, but that doesn't mean I have an addiction. You want me to stop taking them? Fine. I can do that. But I don't need help to do it. I don't need therapy or physical exams or blood work. I don't need to be separated from Sam." His volume rose. "I haven't taken anything since Friday night, and I've been perfectly fine. I'm not feeling any withdrawal symptoms at all. Not even a little."

The car pulled into a parking lot. Danny looked out at the building before them in frustration. "I don't even need this stupid detoxification," he griped. "Because, like I said, I'm not experiencing withdrawal, and I'm not going to because I do  _not_  have an addiction."

"Danny!" Maddie slammed the car into park and turned to him with an enraged expression and pitch to match. "None of this is a negotiation! You  _do_  have a problem, and I'm not going to just stand by and do nothing about it."

Danny recoiled and leaned back against the passenger side door as she yelled at him.

"This is no small matter, Danny. Yes, we caught it before it could get out of hand, but that doesn't make it any less serious. The fact that you don't even see that shows that you should  _not_  be making any decisions about this. You're a teenager, a child. You have no idea just how serious this is, but I do because I'm an  _adult_ , and I have personally seen things exactly like this hurt and kill people I have known and cared about. I'm not going to let that happen to you."

Maddie shut her eyes and paused for a short moment. Danny could only wait for her to continue.

"This is how it's going to be. You're going to get therapy. You're going to get a physical. You're going to be restricted from some things." Maddie unbuckled her seatbelt and switched off the engine. "And you won't like it. You'll hate it. But that's how it has to be because you need help, and I'm your mother and I have to make sure you get that help because I am  _not_  going to let you hurt yourself anymore."

Danny lowered his eyes as Maddie gathered some things, notes and credit card and her ghost hunting equipment. She then looked at him intently again. "And now, we're going in for your detox consultation."

Danny kept his eyes down and away. "Yes, ma'am."

He placed the final bite of his sandwich into his mouth and put all of his effort and focus into swallowing that one bite because he didn't want to think about anything else anymore.

Certainly not about the gun she just wouldn't stop holding to his head.

But that was his fault. He had provoked her.

Danny forced the bite down with a painful gulp and then unbuckled his seatbelt before realizing that his mother was now strangely quiet. He raised his eyes to see her gazing at him with a troubled expression.

"Mr. Lancer e-mailed me this afternoon."

Danny only blinked in reply and placed his seatbelt behind and out of the way.

"He's worried about you. He says he's never seen you like this before."

Danny looked down and bit his lip.

"I've never seen you like this before either." Maddie drew in a shaky breath. "And it scares me."

She reached out to stroke his hair, tenderly, motherly. Danny winced and pulled away reflexively.

Maddie slowly drew her hand back in. "Are you scared, too?"

Danny couldn't answer. He had no idea how to answer.

"Danny, are you afraid of me?" Maddie's voice was barely audible, just above a whisper. "You've been acting like…like you're afraid of me ever since this whole thing started, ever since Wednesday night when we caught you sneaking out."

Afraid of her since Wednesday night, afraid since she caught him and threatened his life and took all of his power, his power as both a ghost and as a person.

"I don't want you to feel afraid with me, sweetheart. Are you afraid of upsetting me or making me angry? Or disappointing me?" Maddie reached out for his hand, and Danny let her take it. "I'm sorry for yelling at you. I'm really not mad at you at all. I was never mad at you, not even when you snuck out. I was just scared. I'm just scared now." Maddie ran her thumb over the back of his hand. "I don't want you to feel like what you say or think or feel doesn't matter to me because it does. It absolutely matters to me.  _You_  matter to me. Nothing else in this world matters more to me than you."

She started crying, her tears falling onto his hand as she held it close to her. Danny could only stare at her in tormented silence.

"It didn't use to be this way." She shook her head. "I don't like how things are between us now."

Danny could feel tears pricking at his eyes with agonizing pressure. "I don't either," he whispered quietly through nearly paralyzed vocal cords. "I didn't mean for this to happen. I didn't mean to be this way. I didn't  _want_  to be this way, but it's too late now, and I'm trying my hardest to make up for it."

"What?" Maddie wiped at her eyes and frowned at him. "What are you saying? I can barely understand you."

He never wanted to be half ghost. He never wanted to engage in fight after countless fight with ghosts that refused to leave his town alone. He never wanted to be bruised and beaten on a nightly basis. He never wanted to be seen as a simulation with no rights. He never wanted to be tortured for the pleasure of others. He never wanted to be hunted by his own mother. He never wanted to be held at gunpoint by his own mother. He never wanted to be forced into submission by his own mother. He never wanted to be almost killed by his own mother.

And all because he had stupidly decided to enter his parents' ghost portal. All because he had stupidly switched it on while he was inside it. All because he felt an obligation to protect this town. All because he had made his existence as a ghost known to everyone. All because he had made his existence as a ghost known to his mother. All because he had paused for just a moment to free that stupid bird from the stupid trashcan it had stupidly gotten itself stuck in.

Danny closed his eyes and put his free hand to his forehead. "I should've let that bird die," he gasped out.

"What? What are you talking about?"

Danny shook his head and kept his eyes closed.

"There's more, isn't there?" Maddie's voice strengthened. "There's something else you're not telling me, isn't there?"

Danny shook his head again.

"It's more than painkillers and depression and anxiety. There's something else you're hiding from me. Something much bigger than any of that."

She spoke resolutely. Danny knew that tone too well. Every lie he knew, every line he spoke could never convince her now.

"Why won't you tell me? Please tell me. I can't help you if you don't tell me what's really going on."

She started crying again, her voice breaking into a wavering tremble.

Tell her what? The truth? And what would happen if he told her? One of only two things could possibly result.

She could pull a gun on him, force him back to her lab, lock him away because he would suddenly cease to be a person to her. He'd be only a ghost, the very ghost that ignited her obsession.

Or she could realize the horrifying terror she had been inflicting on him and break down in a flood of endless tears, forever begging his forgiveness, forever tormented by how she had dehumanized and damaged him.

Neither outcome was acceptable to him.

Even if he could be positive that she would accept him and his ghostly identity, he could never hurt her with the truth. The anguish he'd feel for knowing how broken up she was over it would be too much for him.

But he could protect her from such devastation.

He was, after all, supposed to be a hero. He suffered in silence for the people of his town all the time, complete strangers who never did anything for him. If he was willing to endure such pain for people he didn't even know, then he absolutely had to endure this pain for someone he loved, someone who had loved and cared for him his whole life.

This wasn't her fault. She didn't know just how much she was hurting him.

And he didn't want her to ever know. He loved her too much to do that to her.

_liar you're afraid of what she'll do to you_

"No, there isn't anything else," said Danny insistently. "That really is it."

Maddie stared at him. Danny took his hand back from her.

"I swear that's it," he said more firmly, almost pleadingly. Please, please believe this. He'd do whatever she wanted except tell her the truth, okay?

Maddie studied him in silence a while longer before finally getting out of the car. Danny did the same and walked beside her toward the detoxification center.

He had to keep lying. To protect himself. To protect her.


	16. Chapter 16

After ten. Finally, he could be alone again. The rest of his family had gone to bed, and he was allowed to be in his room by himself.

With the door open. But still, this solitude was greatly appreciated. He could finally relax. He had been feeling shaky and irritable ever since his spat with his mother that afternoon, and he had been unable to quell it due to all of the constant supervision and patronizing and pitying that he had had to endure from all members of his family.

But now he could dispel those physical symptoms. Now there was no one to bother him.

Danny lay on his bed in the dark and just breathed with his eyes closed, his arms resting by his sides.

Deep, deep, deep breaths.

His left arm still hurt. His left leg still hurt. His right arm was still a little sore—

Breathe, don't focus on that. Just be calm so that these tremors can finally go away.

He stayed on top of the covers because he was feeling warm despite the shivers that traveled down his spine and through his limbs every so often. But that was fine. That was to be expected. It was perfectly normal to experience physiological symptoms when stressed or anxious. It had been an exhausting day, and he still had so much to worry about, so many other things that he had to deal with. Being cut off from Sam, seeing a new therapist, getting a physical and blood work—

Blood work! What would his blood look like! What would it reveal! What was he going to do about that!

Don't think about it now. Save it for tomorrow. Right now, he just needed to relax so that he could cool down and stop shaking so much, so that he could get adequate sleep.

But this bed was so suffocating. He couldn't breathe very well like this. And it was just way too hot as the memory foam fit too well around him.

He moved over to his desk and sat down, resting his arms and head on the cool surface which felt so good against his warmed forehead.

Just for a little while. He'd stay here until he was no longer shivering, until he no longer felt so hot, until he felt relaxed enough to fall asleep. And then everything would be better in the morning. He'd figure this all out somehow. He always did.

Right now, he was safe. Nothing bad was happening right now. No one was forcing him to do anything. No one was making him feel like what he thought or said didn't matter. No one had him trapped. No one was holding a gun to his head. No one was threatening to kill him.

He just had to keep that in mind, and surely, this anxiety and dread would all go away.

Of course, it would probably help if he could take something to relieve the pain in his arms and leg—

NOPE. The pain wasn't that bad, and he didn't need anything for it. He could deal with it.

With his head still down on his desk that seemed so much bigger without his computer on it, he took in a deep breath and focused only on letting it out and drawing in more air. No other thoughts. The only thing that mattered was that he could still breathe and that he was still alive and that he was alone and totally and completely fine.

"Danny?"

Jazz's hushed voice from his doorway. Danny mentally moaned but said nothing. Maybe she'd leave if he didn't acknowledge her.

A bright light forced him to lift his head. He squinted in the beam from Jazz's cell phone.

"Sorry, I don't mean to bother you," said Jazz as she aimed her light lower. "Is it okay if we talk for a bit?"

Danny soundlessly switched on his desk lamp and moved his chair back so that Jazz could lean against his desk. He looked at her tiredly and waited for her to initiate whatever conversation she wanted to have.

Jazz awkwardly studied him. "So, um… _is_ it okay if we talk? You seem like you don't want to."

"It's fine," said Danny dully.

"Okay, um…well, how was your detox appointment? What did they say?"

"Not much, honestly. We just talked about what I've been taking and what I've been feeling lately. They want to see how I do on my own without giving me any medication to help with withdrawal symptoms." Danny shrugged. "Which is fine because I'm not going to have any withdrawal symptoms. Anyway, I just have to meet with them once a week so they can check on my progress. I guess."

"What makes you so sure you won't have any withdrawal symptoms?"

Danny frowned and furrowed his brow. "Because I don't actually have a drug problem," he said with rising intonation and just a little snappishly.

"Well, okay, I know you say that, but you  _have_ been taking a lot of painkillers, right?"

"Because I get hurt a lot, yes. I sometimes like to sleep or be productive. Can't do that if I'm in too much pain."

"But regardless of whether or not you need them, painkillers are still pretty toxic, so if you've been taking a lot and then suddenly stop taking them…"

Jazz paused, looked down, wrung her hands. Danny leaned back and waited for her to continue. Dared her to continue, even. He wasn't about to make this easy for her.

"I mean, don't you think it's possible for you to still experience withdrawal symptoms?"

"No, Jazz. I really don't."

"But—"

"I don't have a problem. Okay? I'm fine. I'm going to be fine." Danny gestured to his back wall. "I haven't taken anything since Friday night, and I've been totally fine. No withdrawal symptoms at all. So I'm fine. Seriously."

Jazz looked at his back wall curiously. "Why were you pointing back there? Do you still have narcotic painkillers stored in your wall?"

Danny hesitated. "I still have to fight ghosts. I'm still going to get hurt."

"But Danny—"

" _What_ , Jazz?"

Jazz shrank back. "Do you even know if the dosage is safe for you?" Her voice was weak and timid. "Or if it's really good for the type of pain you experience?"

"What other choice do I have? I can't get my own prescription, not without revealing the real reason I need it."

"So you're not going to try to get a prescription when you get your physical?"

"How could I possibly get one? They wouldn't give me one unless I could prove to them that my pain is severe enough, and I can't tell them the truth about where it's coming from." He held up a defeated hand. "And honestly, I think I'm just going to go along with the whole 'I'm just imagining it' angle because if I keep insisting it's real, they're just going to want to run more tests on me." His tone lowered, darkened, saddened. "And that's definitely  _not_  something I want. I hate being a test subject."

He gripped his arms and closed his eyes for a brief moment.

"I have no idea what I'm going to do about the blood work." He looked up at Jazz imploringly. "What do you think? Do you think they'll find ectoplasm in my blood?"

Please say no, please say definitely not, please say that his blood work wouldn't reveal anything at all like that and that it would all be fine and that he had nothing at all to worry about.

"Yes," said Jazz softly. "I think they will."

Danny shuddered.

"I actually think they'll find more than ectoplasm. I think they'll find a number of foreign bodies and proteins or whatever ghosts have."

Her tone was apologetic and gentle, but that didn't stop Danny from wanting to shoot the messenger. He breathed to calm himself, to prevent himself from lashing out at her when this was definitely  _not_ her fault.

_right you have only yourself to blame_

He tapped his fingers on his desk. "Okay, well…then I have to somehow stop them from analyzing my blood. Maybe I can switch it out."

"Switch it out? How?"

"With my ghost powers, of course."

"Okay, but switch it with whose blood?"

"Tucker's? He'd do that for me."

"Does he even have the same blood type as you?"

Danny looked at her warily. "Does that matter?"

"I don't know. It might."

"I could look that up easily. And if it doesn't matter, Tucker will totally do that for me."

"Okay, well, he's also a completely different race from you."

Danny glared at her with fiercely lidded eyes.

"Well, you know, he's black, and you're—"

"I am well aware that he's black and I'm white, Jazz. What's your point? Blood is all the same color."

"Yeah, well, there are actually some differences between the properties found in African American blood versus Caucasian blood. The reference ranges aren't necessarily the same for each race. So, you know, if they notice that some of your results are more consistent with those of a black male instead of a white male, they might be a little suspicious." Jazz paused and studied Danny's vexed expression. "Or at the very least, they'll think that you have some imbalances going on and want to run more tests."

"I still think it's worth the risk. I bet the differences wouldn't be  _that_  drastic."

"Okay, well, Tucker eats a lot of crap. His cholesterol levels would probably be decently high."

"So? They'll just think my cholesterol is high. Whatever."

"Yeah, but you hardly eat anything, Danny. Especially this last week, and Mom has obviously noticed that."

Danny's jaw clenched. He did not like being reminded of how his mother had forced him to eat earlier.

"I mean, how do you think you've been keeping those nice toned abs of yours?" Jazz gave him a teasing but friendly smile. "It's not just the ghost-fighting. It's because you hardly have any body fat. Because you don't eat a lot."

Danny rolled his eyes. "I can eat a lot when I'm feeling good, okay? It's just I haven't been feeling that great lately."

Jazz's expression softened. "I'm only saying that if your blood work shows you have high cholesterol, that's definitely going to raise some suspicion for Mom."

Danny groaned. "Fine. Sam eats healthy. And she's white. She'd do it for me."

"Danny—"

"Or you could. You and I have the same blood type, don't we?"

"What? No, we don't."

"Aren't we both type O?"

"Yes, but you're O negative. I'm O positive."

Danny's eye twitched as he processed this new information.

"Yeah, you didn't know that? You're the universal donor. You can give blood to anyone." Jazz glanced up at the ceiling. "Well, actually, no, you can't. Your blood would probably kill whoever got it in a transfusion."

Danny sighed, the tiniest grumble escaping him. "Whatever. I'm sure it doesn't matter. I think I'd be fine using Sam's blood. Or yours if you'd be willing to help me out."

"I of course want to help you out, but I'm a  _girl_." Jazz smirked at him. "The doctors would definitely find it very strange if you were to have extremely low levels of the male sex hormone testosterone and extremely high levels of the female sex hormones progesterone and estradiol."

Danny growled in frustration. "All right, well, maybe I can just say I'm transgender or something."

Jazz stared at him incredulously. "What? No, you can't say that."

"Well, I'd much rather tell Mom I'm half female than half ghost," said Danny tetchily, desperately.

"That's not even how it works."

"Then what ideas do you have?" snapped Danny. "I'm trying to think of something, and you're just shooting down everything I come up with. Real helpful."

Jazz looked at him sympathetically. "You can't switch your blood with someone else's, Danny."

A long beat. Danny held her gaze for a moment before looking down at the floor. "Then I'm just counting down the hours until she finds out," he said with a beaten voice.

The silence following was dense and profound.

"Why would it be such a bad thing for her to find out?"

Danny lifted his head. Was she seriously asking this? Again?

"I know you're afraid." Jazz moved in closer to him, tears in her eyes glistening in the dim light from his desk. "I've never seen you so afraid of anything."

Danny shook his head, rolled his eyes, looked away. Jazz placed a hand on his shoulder and another on his opposite arm.

"But you're afraid of something that isn't going to happen."

Danny forcibly took her hands off of him. "You don't know what I'm afraid of."

"Yes, I do. You're afraid that she's going to reject your or stop loving you or that she'll stop seeing you as her son." Jazz stared into his eyes. "But that isn't going to happen. You don't need to be afraid of that because there's no way she'd respond that way."

"You're wrong."

"Danny, I promise you that she won't—"

"No, Jazz. I mean you're wrong about me being afraid of her not accepting me."

Jazz stared at him in confusion.

"You remember the whole Reality Gauntlet thing, right? Mom fully accepted me when she found out that I was half ghost. She was loving about it, even proud of me. I know that she'd accept me if I were to tell her the truth."

He remembered so well the way his mother had looked at him in that moment after the terrible preceding events were finally over and conquered. He had been so exhausted and stressed and worried, but her comforting words were so soothing and exactly what he needed. The tenderness in her eyes, the understanding. It was a memory he held close to his heart.

"But do you know why I used the Gauntlet to erase her memory of that? Even after she said she still loved me? Because I had no idea how long that would last. I had no idea how long before she would start insisting on running just one test on me, then another, then however many more."

He put an elbow on his desk and leaned his head into his hand.

"Yes, I'm her son. But I'm also a ghost, and that's Mom's greatest scientific pursuit in life, the one thing she's been trying to understand. She might accept me if she knows the truth, but that won't make me any less of a ghost, and she'll know that. She'll always know that. How can I be sure she'll no longer want to experiment on me or cut me open just because she knows I'm her son?" His volume lowered. "How can I be sure I wouldn't just be making it easier for her when she discovers that her most wanted ghost is living in the same house as her, sleeping just down the hall from her every night?"

He turned back to Jazz. He was trembling far more than he had been earlier.

"I know she loves me. I'm not afraid of her rejecting me."

He could feel Jazz studying him intently, but he couldn't look at her.

"I'm not afraid that she won't be able to accept me," he said softly. "I'm afraid that she won't be able to resist me."

He leaned forward, hugged his arms to himself, hung his head, managed to whisper through his closed throat.

"Because she's obsessed with me."

His shivering was suddenly uncontrollable. He instinctively covered his face in a futile attempt to hide what he was feeling from his sister. She was suddenly kneeling before him, one hand on his shoulder, the other on his knee. She was saying something to him, but for some indiscernible amount of time, he had no idea what. He could only distinguish that her tone was frantic, gentle, pleading. Please look at me. Please hear me. Can you hear me, Danny? Are you listening, Danny? Is there a way I can get in, Danny? Don't leave, Danny. Come back, Danny.

"That's not going to happen. I promise. She's our mother.  _Your_ mother. She loves you more than anything and anyone. You do know you're her favorite, right? Well, I'm telling you now if you didn't know. She would never hurt you if she knew the truth. Never. Please believe that. Please believe me. I wouldn't lie to you."

Her arms were around him now. Danny blinked and stirred in her embrace. She leaned back so that she could look at his face.

"You don't know what you're talking about," said Danny, not unkindly, only simply.

Jazz reached for him again and opened her mouth to say more.

"No." Danny stood abruptly and kicked his chair back. He restlessly paced the floor while Jazz remained kneeling on the floor. "You weren't there that night. You didn't see what she did. You didn't hear what she said. You didn't feel what I felt."

Still on the floor, Jazz gazed up at him helplessly.

"You can't tell me that she wouldn't still want to make me her test subject. You can never convince me of that, not after what she did."

"Danny—"

"She didn't care what I had to say. She didn't care what I had done for the town. She never planned on letting me go. She forced me to the ground and made me explain myself, but it didn't matter how compliant I was because she only wanted to establish dominance over me. And she enjoyed it. She loved degrading me like that. I could feel it. I was nothing to her." Danny paused, shook his head. "No, I was worse than nothing. I was an object, a thing, a toy for her twisted entertainment."

He fell onto his bed, suddenly exhausted.

"There's no way she'll just let me be if I tell her. Not after that. She's too obsessed, too deranged." He moaned and raked a hand through his hair, which was slightly damp with sweat. "She'd never just leave me alone."

Jazz stood and joined him on his bed. She placed a tentative hand on his thigh.

"She can't even leave me alone now," murmured Danny. "So how could she possibly leave me alone if she knew I was half ghost?"

"She's just worried about you." Jazz wrapped an arm around him. "She just wants to help you."

The two siblings were silent. Danny didn't want to argue anymore, didn't want to keep explaining to her why he felt this way, didn't want to keep defending his decisions and his thoughts over and over and over because it was just too tiring and too painful.

A thick strand of her red hair hung down over her ear between the two of them. Soft, shiny, silky. Compelled to feel it, Danny reached for the strand with one hand and ran it through his fingers.

"Ah…what are you doing?" asked Jazz with a nervous crack in her voice.

"Your hair is pretty." Danny held up the strand toward the light on his desk. The red color glowed, a faint ember glimmering in his hand.

"Oh. Thanks. That's sweet."

"I can't believe how long it is. I don't know how you keep it looking so nice."

"It's not easy. It takes forever to wash, forever to dry, forever to brush. And it's a real pain when it's windy. Kind of heavy, too."

"But you're not going to cut it, right?" asked Danny more anxiously than he intended. For some reason, it was important to him to make sure that this one thing wouldn't change about her.

Jazz smiled shyly and took her hair back from him, feeling it herself. "No, of course not. I love my hair."

Danny smiled back at her.

More silence. Jazz's arm was still around him while Danny tried to calm himself again. This contact was relaxing and stilled his tremors.

"Danny, listen." Jazz pulled him in closer to her so that his head was resting against her. "I know that this is all really hard for you, but it doesn't have to be a bad thing. There are some positives you can try to see instead. Like, this treatment you have to go through isn't necessarily a bad thing. Therapy could really help you feel good again."

Danny nodded against her shoulder.

"And not taking painkillers for a while will probably help you feel good again, too."

Danny frowned. "What?"

"Well, yeah. You've been relying on them for so long that it would probably do you some good to clear their toxins out of your system."

His eyes widened, his mouth dropped open.

"And, um, psychologically, it'd probably be good for you, too. I mean, especially if you stop with the narcotics. They're psychoactive drugs, you know. They directly affect your perception and consciousness. They can make you think and feel things you normally wouldn't—"

"Oh, my God." Danny broke away from her. "You think I have an addiction."

Jazz held up her hands. "Look, it's just that you haven't been well for a while now—"

"It's been less than a week, Jazz!"

"No, even before that, you haven't been well. Sam, Tucker, and I have all noticed."

Danny glared at her. "What, you three talk about me?"

"We know that you go through a lot. A  _lot_. You are always getting hurt. You are always seeing horrible things. You are always being hunted. You are always feeling bad in some way whether it's physical or emotional. And we all want to help you, but honestly, we just don't know  _how_  to help you most of the time."

"Well, you can start by not accusing me of being an addict."

Jazz sighed and took his hand. "Please just listen to me—"

He pulled his hand away. "I do  _not_  have an addiction." How many times did he have to say this?! "I can stop myself from taking painkillers. Easily. And I have been." He gestured to his wall again. "I haven't taken anything in four days, and I absolutely could have. And I've  _wanted_  to, but I've been holding back because I am  _not_ addicted to them."

"You've wanted to?" Jazz looked at his wall, then back at him. "Why? You're not in pain right now, are you?"

Danny bit the inside of his lip.

"Why would you be needing painkillers now? You haven't been ghost-fighting for almost a week now, right?"

"I've just been sore from trying to duplicate."

"Sore from duplicating? But that never made you sore before."

Sam had said something similar to him just the day before. In fact, Sam and Tucker had both expressed concern about his use of painkillers.

Was no one on his side?

"When I used to practice duplicating in the past, I only tried it once or twice. I've been practicing it for like an hour at a time the past few nights."

"But—"

"Jazz, I'm telling you that I'm sore, okay? I'm not imagining it."

"Okay, well, is it bad enough that you think you need narcotics for it?"

"It's kind of the only painkiller I have access to right now. At least until I'm no longer grounded and can go out and buy my own painkillers."

"You're not really thinking of buying your own, are you?" asked Jazz with an alarmed and reprimanding tone.

Danny narrowed his eyes at her defiantly. "Are you suggesting that I just suffer through the nightly beatings I get from ghost-fighting?"

"I'm suggesting that we need to come up with a better way to manage your pain that doesn't involve drugging you up."

" _We?_ " Danny stood with a scoff. "No, there's no 'we' in this.  _I'm_  the one experiencing this.  _I'm_  the only one who knows how I feel."

Jazz also stood. "Danny, we're a team—"

"A team would be supporting me, not telling me I'm a delusional addict!"

"No one is telling you that."

"Then what  _are_ you telling me?"

Jazz crossed her arms and breathed deeply as she held his gaze. "Give me your narcotics."

Danny took a small step back. "What?"

"Your narcotics. You admitted you still have some even though you earlier claimed that you had given them all to Mom and Dad. So I want you to give me the rest."

Danny gritted his teeth. "Why?"

"Because you confessed that you've been wanting to take them. And if you've been wanting to take them, then there's a possibility you'll give in to that temptation." Jazz boldly stared him down. "And you shouldn't be taking them. I honestly can't believe that Sam would give them to you in the first place."

Danny stood apart from her with clenched fists.

"If you want to continue taking them, then you're going to need to convince the doctors to get you your own prescription that can then be monitored. Otherwise, it's not safe for you to be taking them."

"Not safe? My entire life has been unsafe this past year and a half. I really think an overdose of painkillers is the least of my worries."

"Maybe, but I can't stop you from fighting ghosts." Jazz's voice began to shake with strong emotion. "You won't let me help you any other way. You never take my advice. You won't let me tell Mom the truth for you. You refuse to listen to my reasons as to why it's better for her to know. You won't let my try to explain to you why therapy and detoxification are actually good ideas." She choked on a sob before regaining strength in her voice. "So even if you don't get it, I'm going to do this  _one_  thing for you, at least." Her voice rose fiercely. "Because I'm not going to just let you poison yourself. It's not good for you, certainly not now when you're an emotional wreck."

She held out an open hand to him. Danny made no movement.

"So give them to me. All of them."

"I can stop myself from taking them without your help. I've been doing that just fine. I only take them when my pain is bad enough, and right now, it's not bad enough."

"Well, then, it really shouldn't matter if I take them, right? If you really don't need them right now, then why do you need them here with you at all?"

"You can't make me give them to you, Jazz."

"I can find my own ways to get into that wall. Or I can tell Mom that I think you might be hiding more drugs."

"Jazz, I swear if you—"

"I really don't care if you hate me or stop trusting me." Her tears were falling freely now. "I have for so long been holding back and letting you hurt yourself because I was afraid of upsetting you. And I can't forgive myself for how far I let you go. I've known for so long that you've been struggling and doing worse and worse in school and falling deeper and deeper into depression and anxiety and getting so hurt all the time, and I just  _let_  it happen because any time I tried to offer you advice or help, you would just accuse me of being meddlesome and annoying and that I had no idea what I was talking about and so had no business trying to help you." She straightened up. "But no more. Even if you hate me, I love you too much to just watch you fall away. I have to do  _something_. Even if it's just this one small thing."

Her hand was still extended out to him. Danny glared at her with irate intensity, his whole body pulsating with heated fury.

"I am so sick of all of you insisting that you know what's going on with me, that you know what's best for me, that you think I can't handle this on my own," he said in a very low, dark voice.

"Do you honestly think you're handling this well on your own, Danny?"

Engaged in a fierce staring contest, neither sibling looked away or flinched. Jazz's eyes were misted but intense and oh, yes, he understood her meaning perfectly. She was the intelligent one. She was the mature one. She somehow knew what was best simply because she was older and had read so many books and it didn't matter that she had never actually experienced anything discussed in those books because she with her superior mind would always know more than he ever could.

Danny walked over to his wall and reached an intangible hand through it, grabbing the small container holding the few hydrocodone tablets he had left. He slammed it into Jazz's hand.

"Is that all?" she asked sternly.

Danny shot her a look before wordlessly placing his hand against the wall and turning it invisible so she could inspect it for herself. She nodded, satisfied, and Danny took his hand down. He turned away from her, no longer able to bear the sight of her.

"Danny," she said gently, softly. "I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you. You're already hurting so much, and I'm sorry that I just hurt you more."

Danny made no movement or even indication that he had heard her.

"But I really do think this is for the best. I'm just doing this because…I care about you." She paused. "I love you."

Unfocused eyes, still turned away from her. "Yes," he said dully. "I've been hearing that a lot lately."

A few more moments of uncomfortable silence, and then he finally heard Jazz leave the room. He turned around to confirm that he was indeed alone.

All alone.

-DP-

Maddie's eyes had been closed for a long time, but she was still fully awake. Beside her, Jack had fallen asleep long ago and was snoring quietly.

She couldn't sleep. All she could think about was him.

No, not Phantom this time. Her son. The only one who mattered, the one who mattered most to her, the one who was still hiding something from her.

So frustrating. She had been so relieved when she thought it was just painkillers and depression. She finally had a way to explain everything, something that, yes, was quite serious, but at least it was something that could be treated, easily so since it had been caught early. That was supposed to be the end of all the mystery and the beginning of finally making her boy happy and healthy again.

But the mystery had not been solved after all.

There was more. Danny was using painkillers as a front for something else. There was another problem, a deeper one, one that was hurting not just his mind and heart but his very being and soul.

And if she didn't figure it out, then she'd never be able to truly help him.

All that had happened, all of his reactions, all of the clues, what did they all mean? What did it mean that he complained of pain and yet was hesitant to say what the pain actually was? What did it mean that he was reluctant to get a physical and blood work? What did it mean that he was so much more submissive with her now than he had been a week ago? What did it mean that he would so often withdraw from her touches? What did it mean that he seemed so stiff and uncomfortable when she did embrace him?

Even Brandan had hinted that Danny didn't feel safe with her.

But what had she done to make him feel that way? Okay, yes, she was a terrible mother to him earlier after he came home from school. She had been so irritated after her meeting with Brandan and had wrongly taken her anger out on her son.

That wounded look in his eyes as she yelled at him, the way he turned away from her, the weakness in his voice.

She had done that to him. She recognized it and took full responsibility for that specific moment.

But that was not the first time he had acted that way with her that week, ever since the night he snuck out. And she hadn't lashed out at him any other time during the week. She had tried very hard to be understanding and gentle with him, and yet he still acted on edge around her, as if he feared she would snap and hurt him.

There was something else going on with him. There had to be. It was the only explanation.

She opened her eyes and checked the time on her bedside clock.

Midnight already?

Her eyes lowered to the drawer of her bedside table. Danny's cell phone was still there. She and Jack had meticulously gone through all of his messages already.

But Brandan had mentioned texting apps that were disguised as something else in order to keep conversations hidden.

Whatever Danny was still keeping from her was surely something he wanted to remain secret at any cost.

And if his friends were in on it, too…

Sam  _was_  the one giving him narcotics…

Perhaps…

Maddie sat up in bed and opened the drawer. Jack didn't even stir as she pulled out Danny's phone and powered it on. She breathed deeply. She hoped that she wouldn't find anything. She prayed that it really was only painkillers and depression and nothing more serious than that.

Please, God, please let it just be that.

She pored through Danny's apps one at a time. Calendar, weather, camera, photos, contacts, on and on and on. She clicked on each and every one no matter how mundane it appeared. She let out a sigh of relief each time an app checked out. No secret photos or messages or—

Her heart paused. Something was odd about this calculator app. It did calculations, yes, but no more than the calculator app that came standard on the phone. Why did he have a second calculator app that didn't do anything particularly special?

She played with it a little more, and while it appeared ordinary, something about it just didn't settle with her. She checked its usage statistics. It definitely used cellular data. But why would a calculator app need to use cellular data? And in the battery usage statistics, this particular app displayed a decently sized time percentage. Clearly, Danny used this app on a regular basis.

She did a quick online search. It was apparently an app that could do simple calculations, but when the correct passcode was entered, it—

She bolted up straight. Yes, yes, this confirmed it! Danny  _was_  hiding something more!

But oh, no,  _no_. There was more, and she was afraid to know what it was.

But she had to know. She was his mother, and the well-being of her child was a responsibility and obligation she agreed to take on when she first discovered she was pregnant with him.

She jumped out of bed and paced the floor. What should she do? Wake up Jack? Try to figure out the passcode on her own?

Or ask Danny himself?

She had to confront him about this anyway. Yes, she would just ask him. She'd make him tell her because she was his mother and she was ordering him to.

She walked down the hall, then stopped right before she reached his door. Was she really going to do this now in the middle of the night? Was she really going to wake him up for this?

She looked down at the phone in her hand and silently debated.

No…this could wait until morning. She'd insist on keeping him home from school this time, and then they'd have a long talk about all of this. The secrecy and avoidance had to stop.

All right, she'd try to get some sleep and let him sleep as well. It wouldn't do any good to wake him up now.

But before she went back to her own room…seeing as she was already here…

She moved to his doorway to check that he was in bed like he was supposed to be, safe in his room.

His bed looked empty, flat. She strained her eyes. Perhaps it was just too dark for her to tell. She walked in a little, then a little more, then more until she was right next to the bed.

Danny was not there.

She scanned the room, noted the blanket on the floor as if it had been kicked off the bed. She walked out into the hallway and checked the bathroom across the way.

He wouldn't do this to her again. No! He had to be somewhere in the house.

Please let him be somewhere in the house!

As she power walked to the stairs, she already started imagining having to wake up Jack and get dressed and go out once again to look for him.

But as she started down the stairs, a shuffling noise caught her attention.

She halted and listened again. It was coming from the kitchen.

Holding her breath, she quietly descended the steps and headed toward the source of the noise.


	17. Chapter 17

Still awake. And so painfully aware that he was still awake. After a long day of lie after lie after more lies, he wanted nothing more than to sleep because as long as he was asleep, he couldn't feel. As long as he was asleep, nothing hurt.

Danny changed positions on his bed. On his back, on his side, slightly propped up, no pillow at all, neck in neutral position. But even while lying down, he felt strangely disoriented, almost nauseous.

And so hot. He had kicked his covers off the bed to the floor, but the warmth was still there, churning and gurgling in his knotted insides.

He sat up and rested his forehead on his knee. It felt a little cooler to no longer be pressed against his mattress. He concentrated on drawing in air, consciously filled his lungs to full capacity. Normal breaths didn't feel adequate right now.

Exhausted, so tired. He just wanted to get comfortable and fall asleep so he wouldn't have to feel or think for at least a few hours.

He just needed to cool down. Cool down and breathe.

Breathe—?

Oh, God, no, it was happening again. His breathing was no longer automatic and he had to manually pull in oxygen because his brain and body were malfunctioning—

He couldn't sleep, not now. If he fell asleep, he'd stop breathing entirely—

Damn it, knock it off! He was freaking out yet again over something completely insane.

He just needed to cool down and breathe. And stop shivering.

Why was he shivering when he felt so hot? Or was he actually cold? Now he had no idea as an onslaught of tremors vibrated through him.

Cool down, breathe, stop shivering—

And all this pain, so much pain. His arms and leg ached, his head throbbed. It'd be so easy to numb if he could just take—

And he'd fall asleep so quickly if he could just take—

If Jazz hadn't taken his—

He swung his legs over the side of his bed. Perhaps walking around would calm him, get his mind focused on something else.

He sat up and breathed deeply, stood up—

Shifting, greying, dropping—

He fell back on his bed. He stared up at the ceiling and gasped for air, waited for the vertigo to cease. He held up his shaking hands and stared at them.

He just got up too quickly. That was all. Nothing was wrong. Nothing serious, anyway. He was just a little anxious and nervous and worried but he was going to be okay.

Maybe it really was all in his head this time. He hoped it was. He didn't want this to be real.

Because God, it felt so real. Too real.

And yet surreal. What even was this? Could he even describe it if a doctor asked him to?

Danny put his hands in his hair and drew in long, deliberate breaths. But even like this, he could feel his center of balance was off. He could feel it in his head, a swimmy motion that refused to settle. He wanted to stand, wanted to get off this suffocating bed and walk around, and yet he could not find the strength or steadiness to do so.

All in his head. It just had to be. He was young and healthy; there was no reason he should be feeling this weak. Or maybe it was because he hadn't been eating much lately. Low blood sugar…could that happen from not eating for so long?...or…maybe…damn it, why didn't he pay more attention in health class?

He drew in a couple more shuddery breaths before forcing himself into a sitting position. He hunched over with his elbows propped on his thighs and just breathed again, waited for his balance to center itself as much as possible. He then slowly rose to his feet and stood still, recaptured his breath.

Okay, this was okay so far—

Nope, not okay.

He stumbled over to his window sill and leaned against it. Eyes closed, more shuddering, more deep breaths.

Distraction, something, anything—

He grabbed the hanging cord to his blinds and pulled it, lifting the blinds and letting in light from the streetlamps and moon. He placed his head against the cool glass and took in the scene outside, the streets, the few lit windows, the skyline painted over with light pollution and wispy clouds. But if he raised his gaze high enough, he could see a few stars.

How long had it been since he had flown beneath those stars?

Not long at all, really. Less than a week. And yet it seemed so long ago.

Maybe that was all he needed. Just a relaxing night flight—

No, it wouldn't be relaxing at all. He'd be worried the entire time that his mother would enter his room and notice he was gone and then go out to look for him and then find him in his ghost form and shoot him down and capture him and lock him up lock him down tear him up tear him down rip him open rip him apart ignore his cries ignore his explanations never leave him alone never let him go—

Sharp breath.

But…

What if he flew so faraway that she never found him? What if he just took off and never returned? It'd be so easy. He could create his own lair in the Ghost Zone. Or he could overshadow the right people and create a new identity for himself somewhere across the sea.

But then what would happen to this town? This town that he had become so attached to? This town he had sworn to protect ever since he accidentally cursed it with ceaseless hauntings?

And his family? His friends?

But didn't his own well-being matter, too? Why shouldn't he fly so far from here? Didn't he know what he might become here? A prisoner in his own home, a loner in his own family.

A home and family that he still loved and wanted and needed.

He turned around and leaned back against the window. He scanned his darkened room.

He no longer felt safe in this house. The hunter most obsessed with him was also the person who had complete legal authority over him, an enemy he could not only never defeat but never get away from.

But this was his home, the only one he had ever known. And she was his mother, the only one he'd ever have.

And could he really do such a thing to her? If he ran off, she'd surely never stop looking for him.

But she'd also never stop looking for Phantom.

He turned once again so he could look out the window, his forehead firmly pressed to the glass in an attempt to cool himself. And it seemed to be working. He definitely was feeling cooler.

Eyes closed, tears building and gathering and spilling over.

Fine. No one was here right now. He could have this moment of weakness with no one around to see it. Silent tears following the same path, collecting under his chin, falling onto the sill and his hands.

And so much cooler.

Too cold—?

No, just his head—

Danny stepped away from the window, but his head still felt so cold, chilled while the rest of his body still felt warm. He put a hand to his forehead. Hand felt hot, head felt cold—

And so light—

Emptying and draining—

Blood leaving his head and pooling lower, heart pounding against his shirt and struggling to pump blood any higher—

What the hell was going on!

He stumbled out into the hall, stopped himself just short of crashing into a wall. He paused, panted, regained as much of his balance as he could, kept a hand against the wall as he staggered over to the bathroom, leaned over the sink. With shaking hands, he flipped on the water, coldest he could make it, ran his hands under it just to be sure that he could in fact feel that it was cold that he could in fact still feel at all that this was real because this just didn't feel real and yet it was, right? He switched it over to warm water, hot water. He could feel that, too. He splashed it on his face. No, no, his face still felt warm. It was just his head that felt cold. A head cold? No, wait, a head cold was something else. This was something else. This was not right. This was not normal. Something was definitely horribly wrong with him.

He stared at himself in the mirror, lit only by a small night light in the corner. He turned off the water and continued to stare at his darkened reflection.

His head was getting colder, colder, emptier, bled out.

His reflection swam and tilted, his arteries throbbed and his veins bristled and prickled with needling bubbles bursting and popping around his splintering bones and between his contracting muscles and under his trembling skin, his knees buckled and his head floated as he fell to the tiled floor. He gasped, lay on his back, kept his eyes closed as he felt his blood pressure even out and make its way to his head now that his heart no longer had to fight to pump it higher. All even, all okay.

He stayed on the floor for some time, his tears coming back and sliding down his face to the tile. Maybe he should just sleep here tonight. He didn't want to get up again. It just all felt too dizzying. It just all hurt too much.

Ridiculous. He couldn't stay here. He had to get up. Somehow. He had to get back to his room, at least.

But this pain. So much. Too much. Could this go away? If he ignored it, would it subside?

No, there was no ignoring this pain. Not this time. In his head, his limbs, all over. He couldn't possibly fall asleep like this.

But he had nothing to take. He had given Jazz the rest of his narcotics. Why had he done such a stupid thing?

Well, she had caught him off-guard, and at the time, he really didn't think he'd need them again so soon. And if he hadn't given them to her, that would've just made him look even more like an addict, and he just wanted to prove to her that he was  _not_  an addict. Just because he was in pain and needed something to mask this pain did not mean he had an addiction it just meant that he had pain that was it that was all!

He definitely needed something now. Anything. He couldn't sleep like this, couldn't go on like this. He was shutting down, closing down.

He swallowed, breathed, swiped at his tears with his sleeve, slowly sat up and stood up, leaned against the walls as he tripped his way down the hall and to the stairs, held onto the rail tightly as he practically fell down them. With no walls to support him the rest of the way to the kitchen, he made a dash for it before his balance gave out, slammed into the kitchen table and leaned over it to catch his breath and steady himself. He blearily looked up at the locked medicine cabinet. So far. Could he make it that far? Could he stand long enough to phase through and find what he needed in it?

He righted himself and used the kitchen chairs as support as he walked deliberately, the chairs moving and scraping along the floor as he placed his weight against them. Carefully, purposefully, he walked until he was right in front of the cabinet. He managed to keep his balance squared as he raised a shaking hand and pressed it to the cabinet door. He paused, gathered his breath, then phased through and blindly fumbled through the contents. He knew all of the bottles and containers so well. He didn't need to see them to know what they were.

His hand finally closed around what he was looking for. He pulled it out and stared down at it. Even with his eyes adjusted to the darkness, it was still too dark for him to read the label, but he knew it was acetaminophen. Maximum dose at a time was a thousand milligrams so he could take three now and then if he was still awake in a couple hours he could take—

The kitchen light switched on. Danny squinted in the sudden brightness.

"Danny? What are you doing?"

Danny froze, jaw slacked, eyes widened.

"Danny." More forceful, cross, impatient.

Slowly, the bottle of pills still in his hand, Danny turned around to see his mother dressed in a night shirt and pants and staring at him with confusion and alarm.

"Is everything okay? Are you okay? What are you doing down here?" Maddie looked him up and down. "What are those?" Her tone became accusatory as her line of sight fell on the bottle in his hand. "How did you get those?" Her voice dropped to a bewildered hiss. "Did you break into the medicine cabinet?"

Danny shook his head, never took his eyes off of her. He wanted to watch her every move, wanted to be aware the moment she decided to attack him or pull a gun on him. "No," he said with a strained voice. "No, these—they're mine. I bought them."

Maddie stared at him with a cocked brow, glanced down at the pill bottle, then back up at his face.

"I'm sorry," said Danny pleadingly.

"If they're yours, then why are you down here at all? Right in front of the medicine cabinet?"

Danny leaned against a counter but could not answer.

"Let me see that." She held out a hand. "Give it to me."

She walked toward him. Danny flinched and held up his own hand to stop her.

"No. Don't. Please, I'll just—"

Danny shakily set the pill bottle on the kitchen table and slid it over to her. Maddie curiously picked it up and frowned at him.

"What's going on?" she asked pointedly. "Why are you acting like this?"

Danny shook his head, shrugged, concentrated on staying upright, struggled to keep his sinking airway open.

Maddie stared at him a little longer before inspecting the pill bottle. "This is definitely ours." She turned it over. "I made a note on the label about how much is in here. See?"

Danny didn't look at where she was pointing. He kept his focus on her face.

"Sweetheart, I'm not mad at you, okay? But we really need to talk."

She held up his cell phone. Danny stared at it. Had she been holding it this whole time? And what about it?

"But first, let's put these pills back. How did you get in anyway? Did you pick the lock? Maybe I need to buy a sturdier one."

She again moved toward him. Danny quickly stepped aside and away. Maddie took notice of his obvious evasion.

"Danny? What's going on?"

"Nothing. Just…I'm sorry, okay? Can this wait until morning? Can I go? Please?"

Maddie studied him. "No," she said calmly. "I was going to wait, but now, I can see that this can't wait."

She turned and inspected the medicine cabinet. Danny held his breath as she looked it over, pulled at it, fingered the intact lock. She finally looked back at him.

"It's still locked."

Danny's gaze dropped just slightly.

"And no signs of breakage or anything." Maddie inspected the cabinet again before turning fiercely confused eyes back on Danny. "How did you get in here? How did you get these?" She held up the bottle, shook it at him.

Danny couldn't even swallow. His mouth had gone completely dry.

"Let's sit down." Maddie gestured toward the kitchen table. "Let's talk."

Danny made no movement.

"Danny, this is enough." Maddie stared him down. "You have to talk to me. You have to tell me what's really going on." She held up his cell phone. "I found your secret texting app on your phone. I want you to tell me about it, tell me why you have it, tell me what you've been using it for. And I want you to unlock it and show me what messages you've been sending."

Danny gritted his teeth, clenched his fists.

Maddie looked at the medicine cabinet in frustration. "And I want you to tell me how you got these pills because I know I definitely locked them in there, and I'm the only one who has a key."

No reply. Only increasing aggravation. Danny glared at her.

"Danny?" Maddie met his glare. "Danny, you need to talk. Right now."

She approached him. Danny backed away.

"And you need to unlock this app for me."

Maddie showed the disguised communication app to him. He knew it all too well. But she couldn't make him unlock it.

"Don't think I can't find a way to unlock this myself," said Maddie. "Because I absolutely can. And I will. But I would really rather you just make this easy for me. So we can talk about it together."

"Talk about what?" Danny snapped. "It's none of your business."

"It  _is_  my business," Maddie retorted. "I have to know everything that is going on with you. And you have to start being honest with me because I can't help you if you keep lying to me. I can't figure out the best way to help you if I don't even know what I need to be helping you with."

"God damn it!" shouted Danny. "I am not one of your research experiments! I am not something for you to study and hypothesize and test! Can't you just leave me alone? Can't you just let me have my secrets?"

Heated silence. Maddie's eyes hardened and shone with tears.

"Not when you're my teenage son," she said in a low, shaky voice. Her volume then rose. "Not when you're my teenage son still in high school, still living under my roof. You are my responsibility, and if your secrets are hurting you, then no." She narrowed her eyes at him. "I can't let you have them."

Throat closing up, pressure mounting.

"And what makes you think my secrets are hurting me?" Danny forced down a strangled sob. "What if you're the one hurting me?"

Maddie blinked in bewilderment. "What are you talking about?"

He couldn't speak anymore. No air left.

He couldn't look at her anymore.

She was moving toward him. He couldn't let her catch him.

He tore away, ran away, ignored her cries and demands.

Out of the kitchen, out of the living room, out the front door, down the street, into the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Which will be stronger? Maddie's love for her son? Or her lust for Phantom?


	18. The unveiled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ending - Danny's perspective

Scratching and scraping. Danny pressed his forehead against the tree bark, clutched at the large branch he was sitting on with his bare hands.

A tree. He was in a tree for some stupid reason. Somewhere on the outskirts of town but not too far out because he couldn't fly for very long. He had flown as far as he could before his dizzying delirium forced him back down, and so he chose the first thing he saw for refuge.

A tree. Because Jazz had once told him that trees and plants and grass and nature had healing properties. Hey, Danny, you know what I just read? Did you know they used to tie mentally ill patients to trees to console them during a manic episode? And that it would actually calm them down? Well, it's true!

At the time, he had thought it was the dumbest thing he had ever heard. What, so walking barefoot in the grass or hugging a tree would help him feel better when he was depressed or anxious? But the next time he felt utterly useless and like he was disappointing everyone in his life, he had been desperate enough to try it, and for some stupid reason, leaning against a tree did sort of seem to work.

Or maybe it was a placebo effect. Whatever. He'd take whatever help he could get, and so now he was in this stupid tree for the most stupid reason in the world.

With the side of his head still pressed to the tree bark, he gazed up at the stars he could see through the newly flowering branches and connected them into the constellations he so loved to study. Astronomy, one of his greatest passions and yet something he feared would only ever be an avocation for him because he was so terrible at math and by extension terrible at physics. Terrible at everything, really. The only grade he had managed to improve was his gym grade ever since he started battling ghosts, but what did that subject matter to his academic parents? And he didn't even really like to play sports, so it didn't much matter to him either.

Nothing he was doing mattered.

He was a failure.

He had thought maybe he could make something of himself with these ghost powers, but he was only making enemies. And worse, he had made an enemy of his mother, the one person he so wanted to impress and make proud.

And now what? How could he fix this? What could he say to her to explain his dramatic behavior this time?

Because as much as he wanted to, he couldn't stay in this tree forever. He had to return home at some point.

He plucked a blossom from a branch above him and fingered it, twirled it. Spring. He had always liked this season. Far from the Christmas holiday that he hated so much. Near the end of the school year.

And his birthday. He would be sixteen in just a couple weeks.

Or would he?

He couldn't see himself making it that far. He couldn't picture it. How could there ever be anything beyond this torment and frustration?

He stretched out his left arm. Here, now, it still hurt. His head, both arms, left leg. The future was ahead. Or maybe it wasn't. It didn't matter because this was where he was now. This was what he was feeling now. And that's all he wanted to focus on for the moment. He could decide what to say to his mother later. He could decide when to go home later.

He still had to master duplicating. That'd be a good distraction. From the pain, from the misery, from  _her_.

His molecules changed over immediately, a mental command that now came as natural and automatic as walking or blinking. Translucent ectoplasmic energy surrounded him, moving through and around him.

He held up his left gloved hand, focused on just one fingertip, willed it to split and tear and divide. He started seeing double as his finger replicated followed by the rest of his fingers moving down to palm and wrist and forearm. Good, good. He just had to keep this concentration going because even just one lapse of focus could ruin it what pressure don't think about it just keep thinking about continuing the duplication closer and closer to his elbow but he was shaking and just one slip was all it would take he just had to stop thinking about that possibility but how could he not he had failed so much lately did he really think he could succeed at this stupid power he hadn't been able to master after a year and a half no stop he was losing it he was—

The two duplicated parts of his arm snapped back together with a painful clash. Danny cried out and gripped his now throbbing arm. He clutched it, bent over it, wailed and yelled and screamed. Strings of curses and expletives ran through his mind and his mouth because this was too hard and why was it so hard and why did he suck at the one thing he was supposed to be good at and how did it even get to this point how did he let this happen there was no way out no escape this was it this was all it was over all over for him.

He flexed his arm, stretched it, placed it on the tree branch he was still sitting on and leaned into it.

At the very least, couldn't it just not be painful? Couldn't he at  _least_  have that reprieve?

Teeth gritted, eyes shut, his tears fell in steady streams, his frustration and despair came out in anguished sobs. His EXIT signs were sparking and shutting off. Hey, now, boys don't cry, not supposed to cry anyway, but he was always so weak and so stupid to think that he could ever have worth or purpose in this world. Even his own mother wanted him dead. And there was no one to turn to, no one to talk to. Not his parents. Not his sister. Not even his friends. No one was on his side. But he wanted to believe in someone, anyone. He wanted someone to know what he was feeling even if that someone couldn't help him.

He wanted her to know.

His arm was still hurting. Hurting even more.

No, wait, this was a new pain.

Sudden and sharp and stinging—

NO!

He didn't even want to look. Didn't want to see what he knew it was. If he didn't see it, then it wouldn't be confirmed, and if it wasn't confirmed, then it wouldn't be true.

He gripped the dart with a white gloved hand and pulled it out of his arm. He tried to catch his clawing breath, tried to turn invisible. No change at all.

She was there. Somewhere below him. He couldn't do this. He wouldn't do this. He was high above her and could just fly away and she'd never catch him and he'd just wait for the effects of this concoction to wear off and—

Something heavy hit his ankle, wrapped around it with such force and weight that he was pulled down through the flowered branches all the way to the ground where he landed facedown. Blearily, he lifted his head and pulled himself up on his elbows.

She was there.

Dressed in her nightwear, goggles on top of her head, gun pointed right at him, eyes colder and harder than he had ever seen them before.

Danny gazed up at her, waited for her to do something, say something. But she remained silent and motionless, as if she were waiting for him to act first.

He moved slowly, lifted himself off the ground, watched her closely as he rose to a standing position. He kept his arms down as he stood a short distance away from her.

"How did you find me?" he asked quietly.

Maddie's lips curled into a small smirk. "Even God wants me to have you."

Danny had no reply.

But if that were true, did that mean God was punishing him?

She glared at him for long silent minutes, her gun whirring and ready. He glared back with equal silent intensity.

She at last lowered her gun and cocked a brow. Some sort of challenge. Danny took a hesitant step backward. She nodded slightly, encouragingly.

He took another couple steps back before turning fully and breaking into a run. He leapt into the air, but the weight around his ankle brought him back down immediately, causing him to stumble before regaining the balance to continue his sprint.

Behind him, he could hear her chasing him, pursuing him, hunting him.

He looked ahead. More trees, grass, buildings. He had no idea what was in front of him, only that he was going to it.

Because going back was not an option. And it would never be an option again.

He had to outrun her. Somehow. But she wasn't losing any distance. He didn't dare turn to check, but he could definitely hear her getting closer and closer. His mother may have been more than twice his age, but she had remarkable stamina and speed. And he was already so tired and miserable and sore that even his adrenaline was starting to give out.

Well, then, if he couldn't outrun her, then he had to hide.

Panting, Danny manically searched his surroundings. Trees. Lots of trees. And a lot of good hiding in a tree had done him. He hated the sight of them now. Trees could never possibly make him feel better again. No way, not ever, not—

A ray of ectoplasmic energy zipped past his shoulder. Danny gasped and almost tripped at the sudden force and light. She had missed on purpose. He was certain of that. She wanted only to recapture his attention, to remind him that she was still there.

Don't be afraid. Don't be.

_I am._

Buildings. Darkened windows. Probably locked for the night. If he could've phased through their walls, any of them would've made a good place to hide.

A construction site. Through the chain-link fence surrounding it, he could see that the building in development still had open windows. He looked forward, looked around, looked again at the building as he ran past.

Made a decision.

He jumped and climbed and scaled the fence. A quick look over his shoulder revealed that his mother—

Why did she have to be his mother!

His mother was still there and was still chasing him and was moving toward the fence.

He dropped to the ground, fighting the pain from the impact as he recovered his balance and headed for the nearest window into the building, ignoring the warnings of trespassing and wearing hard hats as he dove through and dashed down the unfinished hallways of the building.

He just had to lose her. He just needed to find somewhere to hide. Or at least somewhere to catch his breath. Somewhere dark.

What good would the dark do? He was a ghost with a very bright glow.

She was in the building now. He could hear her. Damn, she was fast. Or he was slow. Probably both. His heart and mind were bolting and his body just couldn't quite keep up.

No stopping. Only running. No going back. Only forward. Through doors and up stairs and  
along walls and down corridors foam and steel and plastic and plasters and  
splinters and cellulose and echoes and thuds and scrapes in and out and  
around and throughout and ahead just ahead only ahead  
down this five and a half minute hallway  
that stretched but then shrank and  
tricked and ambushed  
and closed in and  
stopped and  
ended and  
trapped.

Danny stared at the wall before him, at the dead end he had just run into. He flinched at the sound of running behind him. No alternative. He raised a hand to break through the wall with an ectoplasmic beam, summoned ghostly energy to his molecules.

No response.

Danny gaped at his hand in horrified realization. His mother's solution halted ghostly molecular changes, and this apparently barred his ectoplasmic discharges as well.

He studied the walls surrounding him. No phasing through them. No blasting through them. No time to physically break through them.

He was a ghost with all the powers of a human.

Behind him. She was there. Danny looked forward and waited for her to draw closer. He breathed and prepared himself for his inevitable capture.

Her gun was humming and so close.

She had him. He was hers.

At this point, she deserved him. She had been working so hard for this moment. And he really was just a failure whose continual screw-ups had finally sealed his fate.

He deserved this.

She stood behind him in silence for some time. He kept his arms resolutely by his sides, closed his eyes and lowered his head. He knew what she was doing. Forcing him to wait, inflicting on him the agonizing recognition of her victory and his defeat.

He had no other choice but to wait. She was in complete control.

"Get on your knees, Phantom," she finally ordered with composed tone.

Danny opened his eyes and lifted his head. He knew this was coming, but he had not dared to think about what would happen afterwards. But now it was time to find out the ending.

But perhaps she wasn't in complete control after all.

She could shoot him or capture him. He wouldn't be able to stop her, not without his powers. But he could decide how it happened.

And however it happened, it wouldn't include his emasculation. Not this time. He wasn't the same kid from her memory. If he was going to be captured or killed, it wouldn't be with his back to her.

He tightened his fists, clenched his jaw, looked back over his shoulder, glowered at her as he quickly turned the rest of the way. He faced her squarely and held out his arms, palms toward her in bold resignation.

_Take me._

Tie him to her altar. Enslave him. Rape him. Whatever she wanted to do to him. She had won. Might as well skip the foreplay.

Maddie snarled and kept her gun aimed at him. "Phantom, I'm warning you—"

"If you want to shoot me, then do it," yelled Danny. "But you'll have to do it facing me."

Maddie scoffed. "Don't think I won't, Phantom. But you're much more valuable to me alive."

"Then just take me already. If having me means so much to you."

He again thrust his hands out in surrender, ready for his arrest.

Maddie lowered her gun just a little as she frowned at him with bewildered puzzlement. "No fight at all?"

Danny hesitated, softened the intensity of his glare. "I just recognize that what I did was…"

His eyes unfocused and lowered. Hiding from her for so long. Lying to her over and over. Refusing to tell her just how much pain he was in. Using her inventions and weapons without her permission. Screwing around with her ghost portal when he knew he wasn't supposed to.

"Irresponsible," he whispered.

He didn't raise his eyes. He couldn't look at her again. Who even was he in this moment? Her son? Her ghost? Her property?

"So just take me already." His throat so tight and so closed that the words scraped raw his aching vocal cords. "Because I can't do this anymore."

He wasn't even sure if she could hear him, understand him. But she hadn't been hearing and understanding him for so long, so it probably wouldn't make any difference at all if his words were intelligible.

"I can't. I can't continue like this. Every time I see you. Every time I think about you. Every time you talk to me. Every time you touch me. Every time you try to help me. Every time you remind me that I'm broken and that something's wrong with me and that I need therapy and doctors and lectures. Every time you remind me that I'm not real and that my pain isn't real and that my feelings mean nothing and that I mean nothing and that it's simply my fate and my lot in life to end up in your possession because it's what God wants and it's what you deserve and it's what I deserve for existing in the first place."

She wasn't moving at all. Who was she in this moment? Still his mother? Or someone else, his murderer, his captor? Who did he want her to be?

He looked down at himself, at what he was wearing, at what he had become. "And maybe you're right. It's my fault I'm here now. I should've never existed. It doesn't matter how many times I save this town because if I just hadn't been here in the first place, then these ghosts wouldn't be here and I wouldn't be needed. And maybe I'm not needed anymore. There are plenty of ghost hunters that are so much better at this than I am." He paused. " _You're_  so much better at this than I am."

_All of our problems started with you, Phantom._

_Maybe if I just get rid of you, these problems will disappear with you, Phantom._

_You are not worth any more trouble, Phantom._

_You lying bastard, Phantom._

_I'm so mad at myself for letting you get away, Phantom._

_I really, really want you, Phantom._

Trouble. A problem. An obstacle.

_I got another e-mail from your teacher, Danny._

_Why do I keep getting calls from the school about you being late to class, Danny?_

_What's going on with you, Danny?_

_This has to stop, Danny._

_That's exactly something an addict would say, Danny._

_You have a problem, Danny._

_What's wrong with you, Danny?_

And he wasn't any less of an obstacle as her son.

Perhaps he really was only good for research. Maybe he'd finally make her proud and happy strapped down and cut open so that she could at last get everything she was so sure he could give her.

If he couldn't please her as her son, then maybe he could as her ghost.

"I don't want to wait anymore." He sucked in more air. His body refused to breathe on its own. "That's what I've been doing this past week. Just waiting for you to find me. Just waiting for you to hurt me. Trying to keep hidden while you got closer and closer to me. Trying to keep you out with denial. Trying to drown you out with drugs. But this always had to happen. There was no way I could outrun you forever."

Still looking down, he swallowed and pulled in a deep breath, attempted to open his airway to strengthen his speech that had been breaking with tremulous frustration.

"So just take me already. Because this will be so much easier if I no longer have a choice."

Who was wrong? Who was right? It didn't matter. She was the one with the gun. She'd just have to realize her mistake later.

Or not.

Did he even want her to recognize him at this point? Or would that only make this pain even more unbearable for both of them?

_Just let me be of use to you for once. I don't want to feel worthless anymore._

Movement on the upper periphery of his downcast vision. Danny tentatively raised his eyes to see that her gun was down and by her side, hanging limply from her hand as she slowly walked toward him. Danny put all his effort into holding his position as she moved closer with hypnotically paced steps.

Right in front of him. She stared straight into his eyes, transfixing him. Her expression was no longer cold and menacing. No, now she seemed to be…

Surely he was imagining this?

She looked frightened. Dismayed. White. As if she had seen something even more terrifying than a ghost.

Who was he in this moment? Who was she? Who did he want them to be?

The gun slipped out of her hand and fell to the floor.

And so did she.

Danny's gaze dropped to stare down at her in shock. She stared up at him on her knees with tears in her eyes. Hyperventilating, shaking, she cried out and threw her arms around him, pressed the side of her face up against his abdomen. She sobbed loudly, her wails muffled by the material of his jumpsuit.

He looked down at the top of her head, at the goggles that peered back at him, at her quaking form as her anguish vibrated through him. He held his arms at his sides and stood still, unable to do anything else in this baffling embrace.

Her endless weeping resonated up and down the unfinished hallway. He looked into the darkness ahead with glassy focus.

"Danny."

He blinked at the sound of his name. He had subconsciously convinced himself he'd never hear it again, certainly not from her.

"Danny."

He lowered his gaze to meet hers. Her face was completely drenched, her eyes bloody and swollen.

"Danny." Still on her knees, she pulled back and grasped at his waist. "Danny. Why didn't you tell me, Danny?"

He searched his heart, his soul for an answer. The right answer. The answer that would make everything better and would stop her crying and would end this.

An answer that didn't exist.

"I was afraid of you," he murmured, almost ashamed, almost hoping she wouldn't hear it.

Stabbed. Her eyes screwed shut. Her breath skipped and quivered. She again pressed her face against him and bawled, her arms tightly surrounding him and clutching at his back.

He stayed standing for a while, but he was growing heavier and heavier as his head filled with pressure and begged him to fall over. His mother. Her agony, her suffering. Pain so terrible that it would never subside on its own if it were ignored.

He wanted to make it subside. He wanted to rescue her.

He placed a hand on her upper back, the other on the back of her head. He lowered himself until he was also kneeling, pushed her in toward him so that her head rested on his shoulder. Her strangled sobs continued in his ear. It wasn't long until he was also crying, his tears quiet and steady.

"I'm sorry," he gasped out in a strained whisper. "I'm so sorry, Mom."

Maddie sniffed and leaned back so that she could look at him, her arms still around him. "Sorry? What are you sorry for, sweetheart?"

Danny looked down. "For this. For doing this to you."

Maddie hiccupped and shook her head. She placed a hand on his cheek and gently caressed him, brushed away his tears. "My sweet boy."

Danny smiled softly.

"You didn't do anything wrong." Maddie placed her other hand on his face and forced him to look at her. "You're always so quick to blame yourself. But not everything is your fault, you know."

She studied him intently, traced over his features with her fingers, his cheekbones and his ears and his jaw and his chin and his neck and then back up to his nose and eyebrows and forehead. Danny breathed and shook slightly as she ran her hands through his frosted hair.

She pulled him close to her so she could speak directly into his ear. Danny stared down the darkened hall over her shoulder.

"I'm the one who's sorry," she said quietly, stroking the back of his head. "I did terrible things to you. And I wanted to do worse to you. I  _planned_ on doing worse to you. And I know an apology can never be enough, but…" She heaved, choked back a sob.

Danny remained still in her arms and only listened.

"Can you ever forgive me?" she asked at a volume almost inaudible.

Danny's eyes filled with more tears. He had no answer for her.

Hearts beating alongside each other. Breathing the same air. Her skin feeling so hot against his glacial ghostly form.

Maddie finally stirred, moved, prodded him toward a wall. Danny blinked away his stupor and obeyed her wordless familial command, leaned against the wall with her on the floor, allowed her to put an arm around his shoulders.

They remained silent for some time. Danny could feel Maddie looking at him, but he pretended not to notice. He instead looked at her hand that rested near his shoulder.

Was this real?

Or did he take that acetaminophen after all? Or maybe he had found some narcotics? Was this some drug-induced dream? Was his mother really hugging him in his ghost form?

Or was this some sort of drug-induced dream  _she_  had put him into? Was he strapped to a table in her lab with propofol running through his veins?

If that was true, he hoped she wouldn't be cruel and wake him.

"Danny?"

Danny hesitantly turned his head to look at her. She was smiling so kindly at him.

"What's on your mind, sweetheart?"

Danny blushed and looked down at himself. "Um…how long does this stuff last?"

Maddie looked confused for a moment, then smiled again with realization. "Oh, you mean the Fenton Ghost Solidifier."

"Is that what you've named it?"

"Mmm hmm. It should wear off in a few hours."

"A few hours?" moaned Danny.

"We could go home and get the cancelling agent." Maddie squeezed him. "But I kind of want to just stay here. I want to…reassign my thoughts of you in this form." She brushed the back of her fingers against his face. "My son. Only my son. Not Phantom."

Danny blushed again and smiled shyly.

"I love how your face turns green when you blush. I think that's the most adorable thing ever."

Danny rolled his eyes and looked away with amused embarrassment. Such a comment was so like his mother.

"I could just stare at you forever."

But this remark made him cringe. His eye twitching slightly, he cautiously turned his head back to find her dreamily gazing at him while fingering strands of his hair.

He leaned away from her, just enough to break her out of her trance. She shook her head and reconverged her dazed focus.

"Anyway, Mom, um…" Danny cleared his throat. "I—I just—I know you said I have nothing to be sorry for, but I  _am_  sorry. If I had just been honest from the beginning and hadn't lied to you—"

"I understand why you did. It's okay."

"No, it's not," insisted Danny. "I should've never let it go this far. I hate that you ended up getting hurt when it could've been avoided."

"You're stressing over how  _I_ was hurt?" Maddie pulled him back in close to her. "So like you. Always putting others before yourself. It's what makes you a great hero." She kissed his head. "But sweetheart,  _you're_  the one whose hurt matters here, okay? You're the one who's been suffering, not me."

"But you were hurt, right?" asked Danny, almost desperately. He wanted to have  _something_  to feel bad about, something to justify why he put off telling her for so long. "I've never seen you cry so hard."

Maddie sighed deeply and again laced her fingers in his hair. Danny pulled his head away, but she didn't seem to notice, just found his hair again and absently stroked it.

"Yes, I was hurt. I'm hurting now. But I'm hurting because I realize just how much I've been hurting  _you_. You had nothing to do with how I feel now. It's not your fault. It's my fault. Only my fault."

Danny shivered as her fingers tickled the back of his neck.

"I haven't been seeing you as a person," she said softly. "I thought I was. But I wasn't. So yes, I'm hurting, but if it was the only way for me to finally see the truth, then it's worth it. I'd much rather endure this pain for you than allow you to continue suffering."

She wrapped her other arm around him, her knee knocking against his, her chin resting on his head.

"I'm hurting this much because that's how much I care about you, Danny. You're the only one I care this much to hurt about. And you're worth it."

In her arms, Danny closed his eyes and let his tears fall that he couldn't stop even if he tried.

Hours later. The solidifying solution had worn off at last. The starlit sky burned in the distance. Her arm was around him, holding him as if she were afraid to lose him. Along the sidewalk, through their neighborhood, up to their front door. They paused and stared at it together.

Midnight hair, rainy eyes. Danny turned to look at his mother. She stroked his face affectionately. He forced himself to lean into her touch.

And then they crossed over the threshold into their home.

Not as scientist and specimen, hunter and prey, but as mother and son. The only relationship that was ever real or true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are indeed still two more uploads, so stick around!
> 
> Next: Ending - Maddie's perspective  
> Then: Alternate ending


	19. The penitent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ending - Maddie's perspective

Maddie ran barefoot out the door, but Danny was already gone. She looked up one street, down the other. No sign of him. How had he disappeared so quickly?

She had to find him. He didn't have his cell phone. He didn't have any anti-ghost weapons to defend himself. She had to go out and locate him and hold him to her and never ever let him out of the house again and maybe even homeschool him because he wasn't doing so great in school anyway and she didn't know what she'd do if she ever really lost him.

But what if she already really lost him?

_What if you're the one hurting me?_

She wasn't hurting him. She was trying to help him. He just didn't understand. He was just too young to recognize what was best for him. He was just being a typical angsty teen.

A streak in the distant sky caught her attention. She squinted at it. A glittering trail of glowing energy. She ran back into the house and grabbed her ghost equipment by the door. Back outside, she pulled out a scanner and aimed it at the band of light.

_Error_

Maddie retried the scan. Another error. She frowned and again studied the streak. It was quickly disappearing, fading away.

Only one ghost's ecto-signature ever gave her equipment an error reading.

The streak was now completely gone. Maddie pulled out her goggles and placed them over her eyes. She tapped into a new feature she had installed and focused on where the streak had been. The goggles picked up on the ghostly particles that were still left behind. A clear trail. She could just follow it and then she'd have Phantom at last he'd be all hers he'd be—

No, wait,  _Danny_ —

Maddie again looked up and down the street. She needed to look for Danny. He was so much more important.

But she hadn't seen any sign of Phantom in so long. This could be her best chance. Her only chance.

And hey, she had no idea which way Danny went. She had to choose a direction to start in. Might as well be toward Phantom.

She ran back into the house and pulled on her boots. No time to put on a jumpsuit. No time to wake Jack. She fastened a utility belt around her hips, clipped everything she needed to it, and ran back outside with ecto-gun in hand. She repositioned her goggles and stared up at the sky. The ghost particles were still there. She hopped into her car and drove toward it, followed the sparkling path.

And she looked for Danny, too. Of course.

She scanned the sidewalks and streets. He was nowhere. She looked up at the spectral particles, scowled at them.

She drove a fair way to the edge of town. She parked at one point and gazed up at the glimmering ghost particles still hanging in the air. She'd have to continue on foot now. But no matter. It'd be easier to sneak up on him this way.

Still no Danny, but maybe…maybe he'd be this way…?

Across grass. A starry expanse. And above her, the ghost particles stretched on and on and stopped at a tree.

And in the tree?

Maddie placed her goggles on top of her head and stared up at him.

 _Him_.

Dazzling. Shimmering. Sitting on a branch near the tree's trunk, long muscled legs hanging, head bent over.

Crying. Phantom was sobbing about something. Anguished and tormented wails, slightly dissonant at times with ghostly power that shook the branches around him, disturbing flowers that fluttered listlessly to the ground.

She silently stood below him with a glare increasing in fury. How dare he distract her once again when she was supposed to be looking for Danny. How dare he disappear for a week and then show up so suddenly now.

And how dare he act so distressed. What did he have to be so damn upset about? What problems could he possibly have? Not fulfilling his ghostly obsession to be a beloved hero for this town? He was only an imitation. His problems were only imitations. This expression of emotion wasn't real, and yet he was insisting on this pretense.

Perhaps he knew she was there. Perhaps he was hoping to draw sympathy.

But she'd never fall for it. She knew ghosts too well. They were all the same. They would do whatever they could to satisfy their compulsions.

Phantom was no different from any other ghost no matter how genuine he seemed and no matter how well he could emulate humanity and no matter how well his suit so enticingly gripped certain parts of him and no matter how much she just wanted to rip it off and dive in and discover him all of him every inch of him and claim everything he had been keeping from her.

Resentment. Phantom had been disturbing her for far too long. It was finally enough. She would take possession of him once and for all. After tonight, his persistent evasion would never haunt her again.

She soundlessly detached the dart gun from her belt and loaded it with her solution that would render him effectively powerless. She could just capture him. She  _should_  just capture him.

But she wanted to earn him. She wanted to play with her toy before locking him away. Just a quick romp.

_If anyone asks…_

She took aim.

_My religion is you._

The dart hit him right in the arm. Phantom froze, did not move for some time. She watched him shakily pull the needled point out of his triceps and stare at it in his gloved hand.

She pulled a different launcher off her belt and aimed a little lower, releasing a weighted compressor of her own design calibrated to neutralize his specific flight capabilities she had been studying for so long. It collided with his ankle and wrapped around it securely, disrupting his balance on the branch and forcibly dragging him down to the ground.

Facedown. Maddie charged up her ecto-gun and waited for him to look up at her. Straining, he pulled himself up onto his elbows with dazed focus that sharpened instantly the moment he saw her.

She aimed her gun at him and locked right onto his eyes with steely glower. Neither moved for some time. Maddie inhaled deliberately, smoothed the quivers of her body with each breath.

He finally rose, lifted himself. She watched every line of his figure, bending and straightening and curving with his arduous movements.

"How did you find me?"

His hushed question. Standing apart from her with arms down. She allowed her gaze to drop just briefly from his face and soaked up the artistry of his entire being.

Years and years of studying ghosts. And he was the pinnacle of everything ghosts were. The breadth of her research was always on a course leading to him. She had worked so tirelessly even in this faithless world, but the universe was at last obliged to reward her. He was her destiny. He existed solely for her.

A possessive smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Even God wants me to have you."

Phantom made no sound, no movement. His expression remained vacant. Just like the empty shell she knew he really was.

She was riding high on this anticipation. He would be hers. There was no other alternative this time. She'd make sure of it.

But the night was still young, and she still wanted to play.

She'd give him one last chance, something he could cling onto, a hope she could then dash and wink out. She'd watch the light in his eyes fade with the solemn realization that she was always his superior. And then his captivity would be all the more pleasurable for her.

She lowered her gun and issued him a wordless challenge with a cock of her brow. He took one step back. She nodded encouragingly.

_Are you as excited as I am?_

He stepped a few more times with uncertainty, his eyes trained on her as if seeking her permission to continue. He then turned and sprinted away.

Maddie waited. Watched him. Allowed him a head start.

He vaulted, soared a tiny distance before the compressor latched to his ankle dragged him back down. Her lips twisted into a satisfied smile as he tripped and floundered a few steps before resuming his sprint.

 _Ready or not, here I come_.

She lifted off after him with euphoria in her bound. The distance between them was closing rapidly. Was Phantom really so much slower running than flying? Was the ankle weight that cumbersome? Or perhaps he was already exhausted. He had looked rather distraught in that tree, and his strides did appear unsteady at times, as if he had to maintain his balance in addition to moving forward. She slowed just a little, just enough to allow him more time. She didn't want this to end too quickly.

His head turned side to side, scanning his surroundings which currently consisted mostly of trees. She waited for him to look back, to see that she was still there. But he never turned at all.

She couldn't have that. He couldn't avoid her by refusing to see her. She had to make that known to him.

She raised her gun and sent a blast of light just past his shoulder. Phantom almost fell over with arms flailing.

If she didn't know better, she could swear his fear was real.

The chase continued. Maddie stayed far enough to give him motivation to keep going but close enough so he could hear her at all times. She ran possibilities through her mind. She was still convinced he had stolen a vial of the cancelling agent for her ghostly solidifier from her lab. What if he had it with him? What if he used it? No matter. She had more of the concoction, and he had only one vial at most. She could easily inject him again.

What about his ghostly wail? That was the one power he could still use, his most lethal one. But she knew it took time for him to pull in enough air to unleash that kind of energy, and he had to brace himself, stand almost still to use it effectively. If there was even a hint of him thinking of using that power, Maddie would either shoot or capture him immediately.

She had already won. Now it was just a matter of making him realize it, too.

He looked off to the side. Maddie scanned the area to see what he was suddenly so interested in. A building under construction behind a chain-link fence. With sharp movement, Phantom jumped onto the fence and quickly but clumsily scaled it. Maddie wasted no time in doing the same, effortlessly sailing over the fence and landing neatly on the other side.

She waited a few moments and watched Phantom head toward an open window in the unfinished building.

This boy was too much fun.

He dove through the window. Maddie slowed even more to give him a little more distance. There was no danger of losing him. His glow was so gorgeously bright, and even if he did manage to hide, she'd have only to slip on her goggles and look at the trail of ghostly particles he was leaving behind.

She leapt into the building and quickly located Phantom's attractive light flickering around a corner. With ecto-gun still in her hands, she bolted down the halls after him.

No breaking. Only sprinting. No leniency. Only hounding. Between frames and over mats and  
around bends and down passages timber and concrete and fiberglass and aggregates and  
fragments and copper and reverbs and bangs and abrasions by and at and  
between and within and there right there just there  
up this five and a half minute hallway  
that expanded and then shifted  
apprehended and detained  
and stockaded and  
curbed and  
shut in and  
jailed.

Maddie slid to a halt. Ahead. He was there. Surrounded by walls he could not pass without his powers. With his back to her, he stared straight ahead. He remained motionless as she approached, did not even acknowledge her presence.

But by the way his shoulders rose and fell, the way his back muscles tensed and shivered, he knew she was there.

She walked close enough so he could hear the droning of her ecto-gun trained on him. She stopped and breathed, readied herself for his climactic capture.

She had him. He was hers.

And she deserved him. No one else could ever deserve him as much as she did, not after the long nights that stretched into long years of seemingly futile efforts.

And what else did he expect to happen? After all he had done? After all he had demonstrated? After all his vaunting heroics and spotlight stealing? Did he really think he could be free to do whatever he wanted forever? When he wasn't even human and didn't have such rights?

He deserved this.

Flushed with his foretaste, she could not summon any words for some time. His head low, he did not even attempt to turn. She kept her gun on him, aligned her breaths with his, imagined fondling the throbbing pulses racing across his back.

She raised her gun higher. This mounting pressure could not be held back much longer, ached to flood and contract already.

She could just seal him away as her prisoner now. But it wasn't enough. After all he had done, the grief he had caused her, the strain he had put on her life and relationships, the distracting fantasies he stirred.

He had to be punished.

"Get on your knees, Phantom," she commanded coolly.

His head lifted. Maddie watched him intently, quietly waited for him to acquiesce to her control. He stayed motionless for some time. No hurry. She could wait. A little tease could only heighten this pleasure.

_Let's do it raw, Phantom. This 0.02mm wall is getting really annoying._

His whole body stiffened, his fists and back and neck muscles. He shot a scowl at her over his shoulder, turned fully before she could reprimand him. Facing her squarely, he stared her down with arms out and palms toward her. A desperate final act of rebellion even in surrender.

Maddie's temperature rose as she gripped her gun tighter. "Phantom, I'm warning you—"

"If you want to shoot me, then do it," yelled Phantom. "But you'll have to do it facing me."

Maddie scoffed with an inward sneer at his pitiable attempt to assert power. "Don't think I won't, Phantom. But you're much more valuable to me alive."

"Then just take me already. If having me means so much to you."

Maddie frowned and lowered her gun slightly. She studied him intently, his open yielding stance that was somehow still as cocky as ever.

"No fight at all?" she finally asked him.

Fine, then. If he was ready to be captured, then she was ready to take him. She reached for the Thermos attached to her belt.

But then something changed.

His glare softened into something far sadder, something she had seen so many times before but never on him. Maddie sharply focused and tried to make sense of it.

His eyes clouded over and lowered, lidded so that she could no longer see their radiance. "I just recognize that what I did was…irresponsible."

His tone was tapping against her heart, begging to break it in the most peculiar way. But also in a way she was certain she had felt before. But when? The recollection wasn't forming.

No, this was what he did. This was what  _ghosts_  did. He was trying to imitate something familiar to trick her. She couldn't let him. She restrengthened her stance and hold.

"So just take me already," he managed to rasp out with whispery cadence. "Because I can't do this anymore."

His words were hardly intelligible, suffocated by constricting torment, asphyxiated by shivering defeat. I can't, I can't continue, I can't go on, it's you, you're always there, you are everything and I am nothing and you are right and I am wrong and you are  _real_ and I am artificial a shame a  _sham_. And it's all my fault, I shouldn't be here, I should've never existed. I am a disappointment and I've been disappointing you for so long and I try to make up for it but it's never good enough for you because I am just not good enough for you.

"And maybe I'm not needed anymore. There are plenty of ghost hunters that are so much better at this than I am." He paused, but he kept his eyes lowered. " _You're_ so much better at this than I am."

His train of thought was so strange, his utterances seemingly unrelated to each other. Her gun was shaking in her hands with this perplexing wave of familiarity.

"I don't want to wait anymore," he continued with a gasp for air, his words still so low and strangled and indiscernible as he continued.

Find me, hurt me, get closer to me. Keeping you out, drowning you out. But this is it. I can't run from you anymore.

_What if you're the one hurting me?_

"So just take me already," he pleaded in a tortured voice. "Because this will be so much easier if I no longer have a choice."

She had seen this before. She had heard this before. This was more than imitation. This was not even an exact replica. This was the original. Somehow. Impossible and yet she was sure because she had seen it before so many times across so many years and could never mistake it for anything else. His expression of remorse, so contrite, so repentant. His bold valor replaced by something so timid and void of self-esteem. Giving up and giving in, submitting to her authority, it reminded her of—

Just like—

_Danny—_

Danny! She was supposed to be looking for Danny!

Why was she thinking of Danny now? Why did he—

Why would he—

Why was Phantom reminding her of Danny?

Over the past week, the way he shied from her touch, the way he wouldn't keep eye contact with her, the way he seized up around her.

That night he snuck out, that night she terrorized Phantom.

Terrorized  _him_ —?

That strange bite on the back of his neck. It could've only been an insect bite. There was no other explanation.

Or it could've been an  _injection_.

Didn't she hit Phantom near the back of the neck? She had forgotten before, but the memory was clear now.

_Mom, there's something else I need to tell you. I don't really know how to say it, but it's about Phantom._

It was always about Phantom.

_Phantom? What does he have to do with my son?_

EVERYTHING.

_Why are you so obsessed with catching him?_

Phantom was everything. Phantom was  _her_ everything.

 _But isn't he still a person? Doesn't he have feelings?_   _Why do you want to hurt him so much?_

Maddie stared at the ghost before her. He refused to look at her.

 _Why do you want to hurt_ ME _so much?_

It couldn't be true. She didn't want it to be true. It didn't make sense for it to be true and it certainly wasn't fair for it to be true.

She was just a researcher. She was just a scientist. She was just doing what she was supposed to be doing. She was just doing what anyone else in pursuit of knowledge and truth would do.

She was only human—

Was she?

_are you?_

Her arms dropped, her fingers barely clinging to the gun in her hand. She walked toward him, connected the dots of his silhouette, lined them up with someone she knew too well, hoped that they somehow wouldn't align at all so she could be spared from this horror.

But as she stood right in front of him, eyes level with his, it was only all too clear where she had seen this exact expression of sorrow and insecurity and regret before. He had been wearing it all week.

Her fingers lost contact with her gun as it clattered to the floor.

Her knees lost their strength as they buckled and bent and collapsed.

Her air was stealing away as she fought to reclaim it. Her nerves were skipping and jolting, buzzing under her skin and around her muscles.

She stared up at him with splitting pressure that pushed hard against her eyes, filling them, overflowing. Ashamed, forced to recognize her inhumanity, she buried her face against him, hid herself from him. With arms thrown around his back, her tears ran down the material of his suit that she now remembered sewing herself a couple years ago.

He was stiff in her arms, immobilized. She gripped him tighter, pressed him in even closer. Wailing over all she had done to him, bemoaning all she could now never do to him.

She lifted her head to look up at him. He was staring down the hallway behind her.

"Danny."

He blinked but did not move.

"Danny," she tried again.

He lowered his head and met her gaze. Her eyes already puffy and raw, the intense light of his stare only sent more tears streaming down her face.

"Danny." Maddie leaned back and pulled her hands away from his back to rest on his waist. "Danny. Why didn't you tell me, Danny?"

His eyes closed halfway. Maddie studied his face intently, anxiously awaiting his reason for keeping this from her and why he allowed her to hunt him like this for so long.

"I was afraid of you," he said in a very low voice.

Fear. Fear that she had delighted in and thrilled herself on when he was her ghost.

But her child?

Nothing could be more horrific than her own child being afraid of her.

And he was her child first. Always. Foremost. However he became a ghost didn't matter because she knew him since the beginning of his conception. Her flesh, her blood, her pride, her joy, her world, her favorite, her greatest love.

She shut her eyes tight and buried her face against him again with collapsing lungs.

In her arms, he stayed still and straight as she wept and clutched the material of the suit on his back.

But then he moved. Slowly. One hand pressed on her upper back, another on the back of her head. He lowered himself within her arms. Down on his knees with her, he pulled her toward him, fit her head on his shoulder. Maddie sobbed even harder at this gesture of affection and comfort.

"I'm sorry." His voice was struggling. "I'm so sorry, Mom."

Keeping her arms around him, Maddie pulled back to look at him, the wet lines on his cheeks. "Sorry? What are you sorry for, sweetheart?"

"For this. For doing this to you."

He wasn't looking at her. Maddie choked on a gulp of air with a shake of her head. She placed one hand on his face and tenderly swept his tears away. "My sweet boy."

He smiled. Maddie admired the attractive shape of his lips.

"You didn't do anything wrong." Maddie held his face in both hands, this face she knew so well but for some reason couldn't recognize before, this face that was far too often racked with guilt and worry. "You're always so quick to blame yourself. But not everything is your fault, you know."

Her fingers pressed into his illuminated skin and trailed over his visage, along his cheekbones and around his ears and under his chin and down his neck and then up the bridge of his nose and across his brow. She studied him, mapped each part of him to what Jack had given him, to what she had given him.

She slipped her hands into his hair and stared at his face in its entirety.

Danny.

Starlit hair and incandescent eyes. But still her Danny. The boy she always wanted when she used to dream about being a mother, the son she had been given though she didn't deserve him.

She pulled him to her and brushed his ear with her lips as she spoke.

"I'm the one who's sorry." She ran her fingers up and down the back of his head. "I did terrible things to you."

Forcing him into submission, nearly pulling that trigger.

"And I wanted to do worse to you. I  _planned_ on doing worse to you."

The devices and tools and procedures and drugs she had been preparing just for him. All the hopes of what he'd give her, all the fantasies of how he'd look in chains.

"And I know an apology can never be enough, but…" Maddie gasped, fought her tightening throat. "Can you ever forgive me?" she choked out in a nearly paralyzed whisper.

He never answered her.

The ethereal perfume of his hair. His spectral body feeling so cold against her. The extraordinarily human sound of his breathing.

Maddie at last broke the trance and directed him to sit beside her against a wall. Danny followed, obeyed her soundless parental command.

She wrapped an arm around his shoulders and gazed at him, but he kept his head slightly turned from her. His eyes in profile were glassy with introspection.

"Danny?" she finally said to him.

With some timid reluctance, he met her gaze. She gave him her best motherly smile. "What's on your mind, sweetheart?"

A summery blush rose to his cheeks as he looked down at himself. "Um…how long does this stuff last?"

Maddie stuck out her bottom lip as she followed his line of sight to his glowing suited physique. She smiled again as his meaning became clear to her. "Oh, you mean the Fenton Ghost Solidifier."

"Is that what you've named it?"

"Mmm hmm. It should wear off in a few hours."

"A few hours?"

Maddie held back secret amusement at his bleating. She definitely recognized that endearing pout. "We could go home and get the cancelling agent." She hugged him tighter. "But I kind of want to just stay here."

She didn't want him to change back. Not yet. She had never been able to look at his ghost form so closely before. A selfish desire, but she knew he'd understand. He was always so obliging and self-sacrificing.

She needed to see him like this. For her own sanity. Find the familiar in the unfamiliar.

"I want to…reassign my thoughts of you in this form." She stroked his face with the back of her fingers. "My son. Only my son. Not Phantom."

His face filled with that stunning glow again as he smiled at her.

"I love how your face turns green when you blush," she cooed. "I think that's the most adorable thing ever."

His peridot color deepened as he rolled his eyes and looked away. She continued to admire him, the face that always made her so soft with love, warm with pride. Was this the magnetizing sorcery behind Phantom's allure all along?

"I could just stare at you forever," she murmured.

The strands of his hair were so vapory, almost numbing as her fingertips glided between them. Such mesmerizing texture. She had operated on so many ghosts, had felt up and groped so many. But the feel of him was nothing short of entrancing.

He broke away from her touch. Maddie shook her head and blinked her eyes back into focus.

"Anyway, Mom, um…" Danny cleared his throat. "I—I just—I know you said I have nothing to be sorry for, but I  _am_  sorry. If I had just been honest from the beginning and hadn't lied to you—"

"I understand why you did. It's okay."

"No, it's not," said Danny somewhat sharply.

Maddie frowned at the sudden desperation in his tone.

"I should've never let it go this far," he continued. "I hate that you ended up getting hurt when it could've been avoided."

His frequent coping mechanism, placing blame on himself so that all of his troubles and pain could feel justified. Because if he felt that it was his fault, then he didn't have to exhaust himself by trying to fight back. He could simply accept the consequences because he believed they were well-deserved anyway. He had been this way for as long as she could remember. No surprise to her at all. But still so heartbreaking that he would try to find guilt even now.

"You're stressing over how  _I_ was hurt?" she asked as she held him close to her again. "So like you. Always putting others before yourself. It's what makes you a great hero."

The word surprised her only momentarily. Hero. She had never thought of Phantom as a hero before, only as a self-serving ghost with an obsession to satisfy.

But she was well acquainted with her son, had raised him herself, had served him and known him intimately for nearly sixteen years. He was self-sacrificing to a fault and so often had to be reminded that his own feelings and well-being were also important.

She placed a tender kiss on his head. "But sweetheart,  _you're_  the one whose hurt matters here, okay? You're the one who's been suffering, not me."

"But you were hurt, right?" His voice edged with anxiety. "I've never seen you cry so hard."

Maddie let out a long sigh as she thought about how best to speak to him, how to help him understand in his delicate state of mind. She stroked his hair in thought, repetitive petting motions.

"Yes, I was hurt. I'm hurting now," she said carefully. "But I'm hurting because I realize just how much I've been hurting  _you_. You had nothing to do with how I feel now."

She should've known. She should've been able to recognize him. He shouldn't have had to tell her at all. She was his mother and just should've seen it was him.

"It's not your fault. It's my fault. Only my fault."

Her hand moved lower to his cold neck, the rhythmic vibrations of his ghostly physiology against her fingertips.

Ghostly but also so human.

"I haven't been seeing you as a person," she said quietly. "I thought I was. But I wasn't. So yes, I'm hurting, but if it was the only way for me to finally see the truth, then it's worth it. I'd much rather endure this pain for you than allow you to continue suffering."

She pulled him into a full embrace and rested her chin on his head.

"I'm hurting this much because that's how much I care about you, Danny. You're the only one I care this much to hurt about. And you're worth it."

She breathed him in. Her tears fell into his hair.

Hours later. The solidifying solution had worn off at last. The larks were beginning their melodic twitters. She held him close to her, vowing to never lose him again. Along the curbs, across the streets, up to their front door. They paused and stared at it together.

Danny turned to look at her with coloring resembling his father. Maddie cupped his face with one hand. He leaned into her touch.

And then it was time to go home. The home she had created for him. The home she had raised him in.

Her son. Also her ghost. But most importantly her son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Alternate ending
> 
> (Hint: It's not gonna be happy.)


	20. Dissembled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate ending

"How did you find me?"

"Even God wants me to have you."

Don't be afraid. Don't be.

_I am._

Danny stared at the wall before him, at the dead end he had just run into. He raised a hand to break through the wall with an ectoplasmic beam, summoned ghostly energy to his molecules.

No response.

He gaped at his hand in horrified realization. His mother's solution halted ghostly molecular changes, and this apparently barred his ectoplasmic discharges as well.

He studied the walls surrounding him. No phasing through them. No blasting through them. No time to physically break through them.

She stood behind him in silence for some time.

"Get on your knees, Phantom," she finally ordered with composed tone.

He tightened his fists, clenched his jaw, looked back over his shoulder, glowered at her as he quickly turned the rest of the way. He faced her squarely and held out his arms, palms toward her in bold resignation.

Maddie snarled and kept her gun aimed at him. "Phantom, I'm warning you—"

"If you want to shoot me, then do it," yelled Danny. "But you'll have to do it facing me."

"Don't think I won't, Phantom. But you're much more valuable to me alive."

"Then just take me already. If having me means so much to you."

He again thrust his hands out in surrender, ready for his arrest.

Maddie lowered her gun just a little. "No fight at all?"

Danny hesitated, softened the intensity of his glare. "I just recognize that what I did was…"

His eyes unfocused and lowered.

"Irresponsible," he whispered.

He didn't raise his eyes. He couldn't look at her again.

"So just take me already. Because I can't do this anymore."

Movement on the upper periphery of his downcast vision. Danny tentatively looked up to see her holding a containment device he knew all too well. A burst of light, a whirlwind of sound.

Contracting and

       stretching and

                  tightening and

                                      darkening and

still afraid

Blackened edges. Hazy. Wheeling. Head swollen with pulsation. Gravity pulled from all sides. It took him a moment to make sense of his orientation in his fevered daze.

He was upright. And heavy. He wanted to fall, wanted to lie down. But something was keeping him up.

And his neck. Also so heavy with unexplained weight. The lining of his esophagus felt scratched and bruised. He swallowed in an attempt to relieve the painful pressure but only felt that something was pressing against the outside of his neck, something physical and flush with his skin.

He blearily moved his hands to feel whatever was attached to his neck, but they didn't make it far. Stuck tight, locked above him. He craned his head back to see what was restraining him.

He blinked a couple times to be sure his vision was correct. Not far above, his wrists were shackled to the wall behind him. No longer able to hold his head up, he let it fall forward. He could see he was on his knees, shackles around his ankles as well.

He wasn't surprised. He didn't even struggle. He wasn't about to give her that satisfaction.

Still in ghost form. Still unable to use his powers.

But where was he? This was not his parents' lab. He tried to remember, tried to comprehend, but everything was completely foreign. He had definitely never been here before.

And where was she? She had to be here somewhere. Lurking, watching, enjoying his inflicted delirium.

Not that he was in any hurry to see her.

He hung his head and tried to blank his mind, tried to forget everything and everyone. Tried to forget the anti-ghost metal cutting into his skin even through the material of his suit. Tried to forget the searing ache splitting his throat. Tried to forget himself. Tried to see nothing, feel nothing, be nothing.

He was nothing.

A shuffle. Danny wearily lifted his head to find her standing not too far from him, still in her nightwear, arms crossed triumphantly as she studied him. He made the mistake of focusing, recognizing her hair and facial structure immediately. His mother.

No, she wasn't his mother now. His mother never looked at him this way. These weren't his mother's eyes.

He vacated his own gaze, lowered his resistance.

"You had this coming, Phantom," she finally said with dark inflection. "You may have everyone else fooled, but you're still only a ghost. And you're mine now."

Danny blinked once, slowly. "Congratulations," he said thickly, his own timbre hoarse as his glands overflowed and throbbed. He coughed and swallowed the mucosal rising, a lump straining against whatever was pressed to his neck.

Maddie's arms tightened in her folded grasp. Her brow raised, mouth turned up smugly. "How's your throat? A little sore?"

Danny said nothing, made no movement. His mother would've been upon him immediately at any sign of illness with soothing lozenges and coating medication and scented blankets and warm broth and loving concern.

But this woman, whoever she was, reveled in his pain and discomfort.

"That device on your neck partially paralyzes your vocal folds," explained Maddie. "Can't have you using that ghostly wail of yours."

She moved closer to him, placed a warm hand on his face.

"I expect you'll be screaming a lot, after all."

not his mother not his mother not his mother not his mother—

Danny remained motionless, put all his effort into not flinching from her touch, halted all expression. He wouldn't let her see what he was really feeling. His only remaining power. The one thing he wouldn't let her take from him.

She caressed his face in silence, taunting him, trying to incite something in him. Contact so gentle it hurt.

But he was determined to win this game. He kept his eyes open, his breathing steady, let her play with him with her fingering violations.

"Well," said Maddie at last, quietly, wistfully. "As much as I'd love to stay here and begin working on you, I have to find my son." She walked to a table and picked up the belt she had been wearing earlier, reattaching it to her hips. "But I'll be back."

Danny watched her for a moment. She smoothed back her hair, inspected her gun, cleaned her goggles.

"Your son," he rasped out, the words chafing his stressed airway.

Maddie looked back at him with a frown. "Yes," she said carefully. "My son."

Danny raised himself to a standing position, first one leg, then the other, knees shaking, calves buzzing with unwanted use. "You say you have to find him. Is he missing?"

Maddie narrowed fierce eyes at him. "Do you know something, Phantom?"

Danny's lips tugged into the smallest smirk. "I know you're not going to find him."

Maddie pursed her lips, nostrils flaring.

"He's gone. And you'll never find him."

Maddie stepped up to him so quickly that Danny instinctively pressed himself to the wall behind him.

"What do you know, Phantom?" she spat. "Tell me now. Tell me where he is."

"I have no idea where he is," said Danny. Truthfully, even. With no power to change back, he wasn't her son, and she certainly wasn't his mother. "But he ran away, didn't he?"

Maddie faltered in her stance.

"He did," confirmed Danny. "But he didn't just run away. He ran away from  _you_."

Her lips curled on themselves. Her eyes misted over.

She couldn't have both of him, her ghost and her son. He wouldn't let her have both. She could choose only one, and she had made her choice perfectly clear.

He'd hide from her in plain sight.

To spite the scientist.

(To protect his mother.)

"You'll never find him," asserted Danny. "Because he doesn't want you to find him."

She raised a quick hand to strike him. Danny shut his eyes and braced himself. But then she lowered her arm, her whole body quivering.

"I'm going out to look for him," she said definitively with breaking voice. "I'll be back to deal with you later." She pointed at him aggressively. "And for your sake, you better pray that I find him."

She turned to leave but stopped when Danny chuckled.

"Pray to who?" he asked with shaded mirth. "God? The same God who allowed this to happen? The same God who wanted you to have me?" He looked up at the ceiling of this unfamiliar lab. "I'm pretty sure God doesn't give a fuck about me."

His neck snapped back as she yanked him forward by the collar, shackles digging into his bruising wrists. She stared him down with a menacing snarl and a deep blush across her cheek bones, her lips so close to his he could feel their vibrations, the electrons being exchanged between them. His own face flushed with cold ectoplasm.

"As you'll soon find out," she said evenly, her words venomously passing between his slightly parted lips, "I give even less of one."

She shoved him back into the wall and stormed out of his line of sight. The lights shut off, an unseen door slammed and locked, then ringing silence fell. Danny stared forward in a static trance, his ethereal glow his only source of light though it only illuminated a small area around him.

His mother was gone. On a futile search for her son she'd never find.

His wrists cramped and clenched in his anti-ghost restraints. He fell as far as his chains would allow him, down to his knees. He hung limply in resignation, a broken effigy wrapped in wire, throat eroding with clotting paralysis, arms prickling and bleeding dry in their forced position above him, head dividing with numbing catatonia and dulling ache and unwelcome memories.

_Nothing else in this world matters to me more than you._

Just that day. She had said that to him. Mere hours ago.

_It hurts me to see you like this. I don't want to do any of this to you._

NO he couldn't associate these words with this woman now—

She wasn't his mother. He wasn't her son. She was out looking for someone that wasn't him, for a boy long gone.

She wanted him to be her ghost, her prisoner. Fine. That's what he'd be.

She wanted to be his captor, his subjugator. Great. Then that's all she was.

_But I'm only doing this because I love you._

He had pushed her away, driven her to madness with this identity he had insisted on lying about for so long.

His eyes rimmed with stinging tears.

_I really do love you so much._

She was gone.

He missed her already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Currently working on a continuation of this alternate ending. :]


End file.
